Thunder Falling
by Croik
Summary: Sequel to Culmination. Venom, Axl, Zappa, and a few others join the cast in facing an old, familiar enemy.
1. Prologue

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings, are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used without permission.  Comments and critiques are very welcomed and appreciated.  I've rated it R for violence, language, and mature sexual content of the male/male variety. This fanfic is the sequel to Culmination, and may not make as much sense if you haven't read that first.  As a disclaimer, I'd also like to say upfront that with this fic I'm trying to explore some areas of the GG universe that haven't been fleshed out yet—though I've done my best to stick to existing GG canon, since I've decided to add a few elements I hadn't originally planned on, I'm making up a lot of stuff.  Rather than limit myself to trying to figure out where Ishiwatari-sensei is taking the games, I'm just expanding from Culmination in a way I think is logical.  So don't take it too seriously ;;.  By the time the next game comes out, I'm sure most of what I've come up with will be proved wrong, and I'm okay with that.  It's all in good fun. 

To everyone who read Culmination, and especially those who offered feedback, thank you so much—I really appreciate the time and support you've spent on me.  The hardest part in starting this sequel was trying to think of something that could out-drama Sol vs Ky, and though I'm not sure if what I've come up will do the trick, I'll do my best and I hope I won't disappoint you all.

Thanks again, I hope you enjoy the fic .

Thunder Falling 

Prologue

_One Month Later_

"I refuse to believe," Ky Kiske stated firmly, though with tightly restrained temperament, "that this establishment is without measures to deal with the situation."

The Chairman sighed quietly, the sound just barely audible through the gleaming mirror that served as their communicator.  "Sir Kiske," he returned in equal tone, "the United Nations takes the recent threat to your life very seriously."  On similar screens about the room, the representatives nodded their heartfelt agreement.  "The public outcry has been tremendous, and we are responding as best we can."

Ky's eyes narrowed irritably.  "However."

"However," the aging man continued, "our investigation has given us very little to go on.  Even with the help of Zepp and searching A-Country, we have no leads as to who might be responsible, let alone how to deal with them.  Arthur Galleon Sr. was reported as decades many years ago—there is no way to trace with whom he might have been affiliated."

Ky released his breath in a heavy, frustrated sigh.  He had not returned to Paris, away from the scene of the investigation, only to hear that their government was making no progress in his absence.  "And Dr. Mariot?" he persisted, his fingers tightening around each other.  "She was a former scientist for the United Nations—our people.  She must have a traceable history."

A man at the Chairman's left cleared his throat lightly: Sir Reames, who had taken over the investigation in Ky's place during his recovery.  "We were able to determine that Leona Mariot was, in fact, the biological daughter to Arthur Galleon Sr.  Other than that she has no family, and we've been unable to discover any contacts she might have had, or under whose orders they were operating."

A cold chill ran the length of Ky's spine, and when he lifted his eyes again to the circle of projected faces, his expression was hard.  "You all know very well," he said lowly, "whose orders they were operating under."

The Chairman straightened in his chair, and several of the other representatives muttered among themselves.  "Officer Kiske.  I thought we had agreed that this topic would not be raised during our serious delegations any longer."

"You can't all pretend you don't know—we're talking about the order of our—"

"The Postwar Administration Bureau no longer exists," the Chairman interrupted tersely.  "It has long since been disbanded.  We are not at war anymore, Officer Kiske."  He leaned back, folding his hands over his podium.  "This is a time of growth, of development.  I would have thought that you, most of all, would be eager to put that era behind us."

Ky pressed his lips thin to keep from scowling, starting to push to his feet.  "Mr. Chairman—"

"Sir Kiske."  He was interrupted again, this time by the quiet voice of a young woman to his left.  "We share your frustration," A-Country's delegate continued.  "But our enemy has many disguises.  We must start where we can."

The Chairman frowned severely, but her words calmed Ky somewhat, and slowly he retook his seat.  "Yes, of course," he murmured with a respectful nod.  "Forgive me for being rash."

"We will find your attackers, Sir Kiske," the Chairman took up once more.  "But for now, the world is glad to see you safely home.  Please focus your efforts for the moment on reassuring the public—that, at least, is sure to ease Sir Reames' investigation."

"Yes.  I understand."  Seeing no further reason to remain, Ky stood, and offered a formal bow to the assembled representatives.  "Thank you, Sirs and Madams, for your time here today.  I will do everything in my power to serve the World Government."

"Of course you will."

One by one the different gleaming mirrors lost their light; the image of Erica Bartholomew to his left was the last to fade, her gaze meaningful.  Ky waited until each had gone out before stepping away from the room's only desk and heading for the small door.

"Finished, Sir Kiske?" one of his officers greeted him outside, offering him his cloak.

"Yes.  Thank you."  Ky tugged the heavy fabric over his shoulders with a stifled sigh.  "I'm afraid we haven't made much progress."

"Give it time, Sir Kiske.  It's barely been a month—a lead is bound to surface."

"Yes, of course.  Thank you."  Offering the woman a weary smile Ky made his way through the thin hallways, past several uniformed guards and locked gates, out onto the street once more.  Though the Records and Communications Building located at Paris's city center was small, it was heavily protected—for the sake of items held inside more valuable than the Viewing Mirrors for the world's representatives.

A carriage was waiting for him at the corner, bearing the arms of the Global Police, and Ky assured the driver his business has been conducted as he slipped inside.  As the horses began to pull away from the curb Ky settled himself.  He was remaining calm, he repeated in his mind.  There was no need to get worked up at this point.  Their enemy was in retreat, and as soon as they attempted to move again he and his officers would be ready; regardless of whatever his superiors thought of it.

"That's not a look of overwhelming optimism, isn't it?"

Ky jumped, and his sword was nearly lifted when a hand came down heavily on his wrist.  There was force there he would not have felt in even some of his best opponents.  He stilled cautiously as he lifted his gaze to the intruder's face—his eyes widened slightly in recognition.

Seated next to him was an older gentleman in a charcoal suit, calmly retrieving his hand to light his pipe.  "My apologies," he said, his lips curled in amusement.  "But I thought you might want to hear what I have to say, before dismembering me."

"We've met before," Ky said guardedly, relaxing but only just.  "Months ago."

"A few weeks before your little trip to Italy, yes."  Slayer puffed lightly on his pipe.  "I'm relieved to see you've regained your health."

Ky's eyes narrowed.  "Your concern is appreciated.  Now exactly who are you?"

"No one of consequence.  I only came to offer you my reassurances."

"Reassurances?"

Slayer's lip quirked, and he fixed Ky with a sly eye.  "I know what you want, _Sir_ Kiske.  And I can very well hand it to you."

Though Ky's doubts ran deep enough to show clearly in his face, his attention was sharp on the other man.  "And what makes you think," he challenged, "you know what I'm after?"

"You're the police—you people are always after the same thing," Slayer chuckled.  "In this case I can be a bit more specific."  His humor abruptly vanished.  "You can't have the Bureau, Kiske.  But you can take their hands."

Ky straightened, a bit of his earlier caution fading in favor of curiosity.  "You're talking about the Assassin's Guild."

"I am."

His eyes narrowed.  "I don't make deals with criminals."

Slayer's good spirits returned with a laugh.  "And what makes you think I'm one of those?"

Ky started to reply, but by then Slayer was already lifting a hand to silence him.  "Never mind.  And don't worry—I'm not offering any deals.  I wouldn't want to soil your reputation."  He paused to puff at his pipe.

"And?" Ky prompted impatiently.  "What do you want?"

"Just to assure you that you still have allies," Slayer replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  "The Bureau was hit harder by your little Italian tantrum than you know, and they're backpedaling.  Thanks to a little help from me even the Guild is on its way out.  If you strike now you'll scatter them."  He tilted his chin up.  "Allowing you to focus on more…important adversaries."

Ky's expression hardened, and he would have insisted on further explanation when the carriage suddenly halted: they had reached the Headquarters of the Global Police.  He glanced out the window only a moment, and when he looked back his company had somehow faded to little more than a shadow against the upholstery.  "Wait—"

"Keep your wits, Kiske," Slayer told him firmly as his figure lost its color and gradually vanished.  "The late Mr. Galleon was only a warm up."

Ky reached for him, but when his hand touched Slayer's shoulder it disintegrated abruptly into thin particles of smoke.  A moment later there was no trace left of the man, save the lingering odor of his pipe's tobacco.

The carriage door twisted open abruptly, and the officer started when Ky whirled to face him.  "Um…we're here, sir.  Is something the matter?"

"No…."  Ky frowned severely, and he tightened his cloak around him as he exited the carriage.  "No, of course not.  But I need to speak to our branch in A-Country right away."

_One Month Later_

The passageways of crude iron and stone had only ever been poorly lit.  They sloped and twisted in sharp angles, mazelike, through hollowed out shells of former buildings, sometimes carving deep below the earth.  No symmetry or reason could be applied to the headquarters of the Assassin's Guild, in structure or in occupancy.  The men that slid up and down the tilted corridors were silent and cold like half-formed ghosts, and when two passed they gave the appearance of having moved completely through each other, unhindered.  There were no glances of acknowledgement, no greetings.  It had always been that way.

There was only one man who could claim to receive respect from any of their Guild, and it was that icon of their kind that Venom was on his way to meet at present.  He stuck out oddly from those he encountered along the corridors, clad in white against the night's shadows.  When he passed a broken window along his path the moonlight made him appear to glow.  The sight turned a head or two which he never saw; his focus was fixed intently on his way, on the subtle illumination of a door's outline at the end of the hall.

A clap of sharp sound echoed down the passage towards him, not unlike a strike of skin, and a moment later Venom was met with the woman's bright and accusing eyes.  She stalked past him without a word, her hair skittering across his arm in the relative enclosure of the hall they shared.  He did not avert his gaze from his goal but his lips twisted in a disapproving frown, even if this was not an uncommon sort of meeting for them.

Venom continued to the doorway in a slower pace, and there stood a moment—yet unnoticed, it was the only chance he had.

The room was small and dark, a bed in the corner and nothing else.  It bore one window that was its only source of light; silver moonlight formed a dim shaft from its opening to the floor, misshapen by the interrupting figure of a man.  He was leaning against the stone sill, arms folded and face unimpassioned.  In the faint light Venom could only just barely make out the subtle blossoming of angry red across his cheek.

Venom's eyes narrowed, and though his voice was quiet it managed to echo in the small room.  "Lord Zato."

Zato-1 tilted his chin up slightly, and for a long moment that was the only indication of acknowledgement he gave.  But Venom would not enter until he had been invited, and at last he surrendered a falling of his shoulders.  "Come in."

Venom moved smoothly to the window, each step measured and without sound.  The brush of hair against his features would give his blind master enough indication of his movement and location.  "Lord Zato," he repeated, bowing his head slightly in offered respect.  "Our mission was a success."

Zato-1 nodded vaguely, his head turned toward the window; it seemed a strange gesture for a man who couldn't see the curved arches that made up the view, the pale gleam of stars in the distance.  "Then you are dismissed, until I need you."

Venom bowed again.  "Yes, Lord Zato."  He hesitated, risking glances at his master's stern, troubled profile.  "Are you…all right, Sir?"

"You're not needed.  Leave me."

Venom straightened, and remained still despite the order.  "I mean no offense," he said carefully.  "I'm only…concerned."  A tremor of indignation made him bold.  "I do not approve of her blatant disrespect."

Zato-1's head turned to face him, and despite all their years of acquaintance it was still eerie, and alluring, to be so firmly fixated by a gaze that wasn't there.  "We're not speaking of her."

Venom's fingers curled stiffly at his sides.  He relented, as always.  "Very well, Sir."

"I already know your feelings, anyway."  Zato-1 looked once again to the window, unmoved.  "And I don't care for them.  Are you leaving, now?"

"If…you wish."  But still Venom hesitated, and he could tell by his master's posture that it was only what was expected of him.  He was not so unused to insubordination himself.  "I am sorry," he murmured, though he wondered if his words could convey his meaning well enough.  "I wish I could be of some good to you, Lord Zato."

Zato-1 sighed abruptly, his arms slipping apart so he could rest his hand on the window sill.  His stance and expression softened as it only ever did in the presence of his most trusted companion.  "There's no understanding her," he muttered bitterly.  "I should have released her from us a long time ago.  Nothing will come of keeping her."

Venom watched his master with a stirring of hope, which he tried to admonish himself for.  "I know it's not an easy decision for you," he said quietly.  "But I am at your side, my Lord.  Whatever you decide, I will support you."

A smirk, thin and faintly cruel, tugged the corners of Zato-1's mouth.  He reached out suddenly, and Venom flinched just barely as worn fingertips spread over his forehead, sliding the curtain of thick hair away from his face and tucking it behind his ear.  It was a careless gesture, and Venom both adored and loathed how easily he was offered those thoughtless attentions.  How vulnerable it made him feel with his countenance fully exposed.

"Yes, I know," Zato-1 said as he retrieved his hand.  "You always do."

Venom's lips parted in want of an appropriate response, but for another awkward moment he could find none.  Zato-1 was still…watching him, it seemed, though in truth there was no telling.  The air around them felt heavy and unreal.  Venom's body moved without him.  Spurred on by some strange, unwarranted confidence he leaned closer.  He felt Zato-1 shift, confused and uncertain by the sudden proximity, and tasted a spill of warm breath across his lips.  He touched a stern cheek to guide Zato-1's mouth to his.

The contact didn't last long enough to be called a kiss.  The sensation of brushing lips was covered swiftly by a firm hand against Venom's shoulder, shoving him back.  Already lightheaded he stumbled on the uneven ground and almost lost his balance—would have, if not for his instinctual grab for the window sill.  Stunned by his own actions and the response he had received for them, he looked hesitantly to his master's face.

Zato-1 snorted, scraping the back of his palm ungracefully across his mouth.  "That's not funny," he chided with a scowl.

Venom felt his insides grow cold, and before he could struggle towards an explanation the small room was filled with the sound of low, deep laugher.  A pair of gleaming crimson eyes was watching him from the mix of shadows behind the still disgruntled Zato-1.  Venom straightened, and couldn't help a shiver.  "You…."

"Charming," the low voice purred, its eyes flashing in the dark.

Without warning the beast flew from hiding, leaving Venom no chance to avoid as night-black fangs sank into the base of neck and shoulder.  A pained cry welled in his throat but wouldn't sound; he only gasped, shivering at the first trails of warm blood drawing a path over his chest.  He looked desperately to his master and found only a mass of shadow, swirling and indistinct.  "Lord Zato—!"

Venom's eyes snapped open.  His breath was coming in labored gasps, and the pain of teeth searing his flesh sharpened abruptly into even greater potency.  His arms were slow to command but when they obeyed, it wasn't cold, formless flesh his hands tightened against—it was hair, and the coarse fabric of a man's collar.  His voice finally leapt from him in a startled cry as he dug his fingers into the jaws clamped about his throat.  His attacker relented, leaving him panting and nauseous on a flat, hard mattress.

"My apologies for disturbing you," the deep voice chuckled again, and this time recognition struck him.  "But you looked so beautiful, resting there."

Venom pushed himself onto his knees, pressing his hand tightly to the jagged wound in his shoulder.  His gaze swam a moment before rising to focus on his attacker's calm face.  He choked on a curse.  "Slayer…!"

The vampire licked his lips daintily, though by now most of the blood had seeped into his beard.  "Venom," he returned in greeting.  He made a show of straightening his coat and tie.  "I just stopped by to check up on you—to see how my Guild was faring—and you just happened to look…so delicious.  I couldn't help myself."

Venom scowled, his gaze flicking across the room in search of his weapon—it was leaned against the wall just behind Slayer, not where he'd left it.  "This Guild is no longer yours," he hissed, though he didn't yet try to move from his kneeling position on the mattress.  "Leave!  Before I wake the rest and drive you out!"

Slayer chuckled and shook his head.  "You know better than I that there is no one," he drawled.  "Your men have deserted you.  Your Guild has perished."

Venom's pulse throbbed in his temples and against his hand as he pushed to his feet.  "Never," he growled.  "As long as I breathe, I—"

"I created this little club of yours," Slayer interrupted smoothly, "and now I end it."  He turned slightly towards the window.  "The only reason I won't kill you along with it is because I know it's what you've wanted all along."

"You…." Venom's eyes widened, and he clenched his fist tightly to hide the fact that his hands were shaking.  "How dare you."  In anger he leapt at the creature.  "Damn you!"

Slayer stepped neatly to the side, twisting to plant his knee firmly in Venom's gut.  The impact stole his breath and sent him reeling back onto the mattress.  "You can thank me later," the vampire chuckled, turning away once more.  Two strides carried him to window, a short hop to its jagged sill.

"Wait—"  Venom clawed his way back to his feet, ignoring the refreshed flow of blood over his shoulder and chest.  "Wait!"

"Good Evening, Assassin."  With a wry smirk Slayer propelled himself from the window, just before Venom reached him—his fingers brushed the edge of a coattail but nothing more as the vampire sailed easily down the several stories to the earth.  Once there, he melted easily back into the shadows and rocks.

Venom leaned over the window's edge, desperately scanning the area below for any indication of his fleeing enemy, but he saw nothing—no ripple of movement, no outline of a man's shape.  He had gone.

Nearly a full minute passed, and then, slowly, Venom lowered himself to his knees.  A tiny murmur of pain escaped him as he covered his wound again with his hand.  It was shallow and would soon stop, without threat to his life—as promised.  He sighed, low and deep.  Slayer has spoken truthfully; this twisted compound, though having always been shadowed and silent, in its emptiness felt more desolate and cold than ever.  The men had left one by one despite his protests and threats, even when he had killed some as examples.   The rooms now stood as empty as his former master's.

Venom closed his eyes, pressing close against the cold stone wall beside him.  "Zato…."

_One Month Later_

He waited for her in the dark.  He was old, and so he had the patience for it.  It was a trait he would have to instill in his progeny before long; the creature at his side was tapping his long nails against the armrest of his chair in a way he found vaguely irritating.  Not that he was entirely unaccustomed to petty nuisances.

"I thought she was going to be here soon," the creature grumbled.

"She's on her way," he reminded him calmly, resting his elbows casually on his knees.

"She's unreliable."

He smiled thinly.  "She's a woman.  She'll get here on her own time."

The creature snorted, though at least the tapping of his nails stopped when he crossed his arms.  "You spoil her."

"And you have a lot to learn."  The man lifted his head slightly, though the movement did nothing to expose his face to the dull lights over him.  "Here she comes."

"Hmph.  She's not alone."

"So it would seem…."

The sound of her boots echoed throughout the chamber as she approached, and a moment later the woman herself stepped into their small circle of pale light.  She was wrapped in tight red leather from head to toe, with tall boots that crawled up her thighs and an oversized, pointed hat.  "It's not my fault," she muttered through a twisted scowl as she sauntered to her master's side.  "He followed me home."

Slayer was smirking lightly as he, too, stepped out of the shadows.  His hands were resting lightly in his pockets, his manner pleasant.  "And a charming home it is."

The man straightened subtly, and if his face showed surprise none of them could see it beneath the veil covering it.  "Nightwalker.  It…has been many years."

"Too many, old friend."  He glanced from the man, to the woman at his left, and at last the creature beside him.  "I haven't met your companion here."

The creature, an imposing figure at seven feet tall with a broad chest and toned limbs, regarded their guest with mixed disdain and curiosity.  "You're a vampire."

"You're perceptive."

"I'll be more than happy to introduce you properly," the man interrupted, drawing both their attentions back.  "And welcome you with all the hospitality we can offer here.  But before then."  He leaned forward.  "Why don't you start by telling us why you're here."

Slayer smiled handsomely, which earned him a pointed glare from the woman.  "It seems I've been paying many different people visits lately," he said easily.  "I thought I would extent the favor to my oldest acquaintances as well."  He made a show of inspecting his fingernails.  "And a warning."

The man frowned beneath his veil; though he had never cared for Slayer's dramatics, he did take his advisement seriously.  "I-no tells me you've busy with the Assassin's Guild lately.  Might your warning have something to do with that?"

"Indirectly."  Slayer took a slow step forward; it prompted a slight shift of weight from the creature, as if he were leaning protectively toward his master.  The vampire noted it, and continued on.  "You and I have been alive a long time.  We can feel the rhythm of this world—I know you've felt it.  Something is going to happen."

"Yes," the man replied carefully, drawing stares from his two companions.  "I have felt it."  His fingers curled.  "Are you the cause?"

Slayer laughed at the idea, shaking his head.  "Me?  You should know by now, I only help things along."

"So tell us already," I-no grumbled, setting a hand against her hip.  "If you know what's going to happen, just spit it out."

"Very well."  Slayer drew himself up, taking on a serious air that may or may not have been for show.  "I don't know what's going to happen.  But with the Bureau struggling, everything is going to change, and you and yours should be ready."  His eyebrow lifted.  "Especially for Ky Kiske."

I-no straightened, while the creature frowned subtly and their master interlocked his fingers.  "And why do you say that?" the later asked.

"His victory in Italy was as much a blow to you as it was to the Bureau," Slayer informed him knowingly.  "He's much stronger now—more than either of us could have anticipated—and he's gaining powerful allies.  Both Zepp and A-Country trust him, and he's already captivated the rest of the world."  His eyes narrowed.  "I don't know yet what you're up to.  But he will topple the Bureau eventually, and without that distraction he'll turn to you."

The creature snorted in annoyance.  "No human is a match for us," he muttered.

The man, however, was quiet a moment, considering those words with the thoughtfulness they deserved.  "You are that convinced of his abilities?" he asked evenly.

"If you'd seen him stab Fredrick through the chest," Slayer replied with a cool smirk, "you would be, too."

The implications of his words were not lost on the three: the man's servants exchanged meaningful glances before turning inward, to their master.  The man was silent for some time, deep in thought.  At last he pushed slowly to his feet.  "I see.  I thank you, Nightwalker, for your information.  I will remember your warning."  He lifted a hand to his right.  "You have come a long way.  Would you care for some wine?"

"I would indeed."  Allowing their brief moment of seriousness to pass, Slayer moved gratefully to his host's side.  "I knew I could count on you for a drink, if nothing else, my friend."

The pair moved off together, their conversation tipping to lighter subjects as the shadows took them.


	2. Chapter 1

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

Sorry if it seems this fic is starting out slower than the last one…   Just have some setup to get through before the fun starts .

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 1

Axl whistled appreciatively as he made his way through the city on long strides.  His gaze was continuously being drawn left and right, captured by any number of startling attractions; shops blinking with colorful lighted displays, restaurants and bars filled to capacity, and everywhere he went citizens engaging in drunken celebration.  He understood none of their slurred, foreign speech, but he didn't care—their laughter was more than enough to convey their euphoria.  He had to admit that Paris knew how to throw a party, when properly motivated.  Despite a chill promise of snow in the air everyone was in high spirits and showed no signs of letting up as the hour progressed.  He was even noticing sights he hadn't seen his first time through.

At last he located the object of his idle search—a faded wooden sign with blue lettering, pasted over the door to another capacity-filled pub.  "Ahh, here we are."  He pushed his way inside, greeting men and women as he passed with a cheery grin and offered hands.  "Good to see you all again—careful of the Vodka, it's not quite good, is it?   You'll regret it later, if you drink it.  And Sasha, don't forget the separate bills."

Axl seated himself at a far table; his greetings had earned him quite a few curious stares and he waved in return.  Soon enough everyone had returned to their original conversations.  His waitress appeared, dressed in a rather skimpy blue and white uniform to match the spirit of the holidays.  "What'd you say before, about bills?" she asked curiously as she took down his drink order.

"I've got friends showing up later," he explained, resting his chin in his palm as he took a good look at her.  "And no change.  So make sure you mark our drinks separately, okay?"

Sasha nodded and flashed him a coy smirk.  "Sure thing, handsome."  She turned toward the next table, adding a bit of a sway to her walk he hadn't noticed before.

Axl shook his head with a laugh and leaned back in his chair.  "Now, just to wait," he said to himself as he checked the time on the bar clock.

"Creatures of Evil!  Tonight, the battle ends!  Come to me, my loyal warriors!"

Ky Kiske sank a little lower in his chair.  He didn't want to give an appearance of ill attention, but his back and shoulders were already sore from the long events of the day, and the strict postures he'd held for hours at a time before now.  The extra weight of his full uniform and mantle only compounded his fatigue, as did the knowledge that he would not be allowed to rest for some time yet.

"Oh, no!  Here comes the beast itself!  We are lost!"

Ky drew his gaze back, just in time for the entrance of the four foot tall mass of red and black paper maché, with a child's booted feet poking out of the bottom.  It hobbled to the center of the stage and there stopped, flocked on either side by half a dozen seven year old boys in ill-fitting white and blue costumes.  Each bore a long weapon that appeared to have been constructed from cardboard.  It was not a promising sight.

"Give up, puny humans!" came a man's deep voice from backstage, though the hand-made Gear general waved it's arms to indicate it was supposed to be the one speaking.  "You are no match for the armies of Justice!"

Ky smiled grimly.  Though the recreation wasn't the worst he'd seen, he had no idea how it was that Justice had come to be remembered out of her true colors.  It might have been easier on people, not having to relate her to the blue and white that now symbolized the former Holy Order.  He was almost grateful.  Watching the ridiculous scene being played out before him now, he could almost imagine that he hadn't lived through it just seven years ago.

"Your tyranny is about to end!" declared one of the boys, the tallest of the group—with his blond hair he really did look like a younger version of his namesake.  "In the name of the Holy Order, I challenge you!"

A vicious battle ensued, which consisted of "Ky Kiske" striking the mass of roughly constructed boxes and paint, while "Justice" flailed, managing a few glancing blows to its attacker.  In the process one of Justice's shoulder spikes snapped and was sent spinning into the audience.  At long last the creature was felled, dropping with a dull thunk to the stage.

Ky smiled thinly.  It hadn't…quite happened that way.

The rest of the play continued, with the coming together of the Holy Order to seal Justice, the healing of Master Kliff, the announcement of the war's end….  By now Ky's imagination was beginning to wander.  In his mind's eye another of the ten year olds came wandering out onto the stage, clad in pale jeans and red and black vest, just in time to deliver the killing blow with another cardboard tube.  He blamed it on his restless, weary mind.

Ky didn't realize the production had come to an end until the audience was moved to their feet; he quickly followed suit, offering his applause to the bowing children.  They were beaming with pride the way only young children could.  In the aftermath, Ky was only vaguely aware of everything he did.  He spoke to the young boys and girls and congratulated them on their brilliant recreation, assuring them of its accuracy—the young Captain Kiske, especially, glowed with his compliments.  There were the usual interviews and photographs taken to commemorate the charitable event, talks with several parents and school administrators, not to mention any number of country folk who had come from miles around simply to see him.  To shake his hand, to touch his uniform.  He indulged them all, save the ambitious young teen who asked to try Thunderseal for himself.

His night should have ended then, but as soon as he left the school he was on his way to fulfill another obligation.  It would perhaps be the most unpleasant of his duties to be completed this night.  Seven years ago he had witnessed the defeat of Justice.  And every year since then, after the celebrations and parades and offerings and drinks, he would find himself wearing down the late hours in the home of some aristocrat enduring small talk and politics.  It was what his position demanded, and he had no right to complain.  If he could smile politely through a few glasses of wine and political commentaries, he would then be safe to return to his home in peace.

This was, without a doubt, the very last place on the Earth that Venom should have been venturing into that night.  Even the maze-alleys of Rome would have been safer haven than the streets of a celebrating Paris; men and women were flocked up and down the thoroughfares, and it wasn't difficult to spot the many officers of the Global Police among them.  Every once in a while he would even spot the full, decorative uniform of a Holy Order veteran.  This was their night for thanksgiving, but still he knew none would hesitate to engage him should he be recognized.  For the time being he seemed to be all right—the blue and white of his usual outfit helped him to fit in well with the rest of the crowds, saving him from detection.

Several weeks had passed, so that the pair of scars on the side of his throat had long since healed over.  He could only see them now in strong light and with full attention.  His search for the creature responsible had not gone nearly as well; he had tracked Slayer to the Village of Assassins in England, where he had be raised as a boy, only to find it abandoned and empty.  The message he had sent to their smaller base in Spain had yet to be returned.  Wherever he went his master's empire was crumbling.  Maybe it was only fitting, that his search for the beast responsible had led him to the heart of his oldest enemies….

There was no point searching for Slayer in this crowd; if the vampire wished to be discovered he would, no matter what effort Venom dedicated to the venture.  Weary from his long travel he at last slipped into a bar in search of a warm drink to calm him.  It was just as crowded as anywhere else in the city, and he soon discovered there were no empty tables for him.  With a quiet sigh he started to leave.

"Hey!  Hey, over here!"

Venom didn't glance back, until a man at the bar tugged his sleeve and indicated a table near the back of the bar.  A blond man was there, dressed in a thick red overcoat and cap, waving emphatically.  "I think he means you," the man muttered.

Venom frowned; he didn't recognize either man, and was wary for traps.  He quickly determined that even if the blonde were an officer of some kind, he wouldn't be willing to risk a fight in so crowded a room—he would easily be able to escape should the need arise.  Though still uncertain he made his way through the groups of customers, coming to stand just next to the table.  "Can I help you?"

"You sure can," the blonde said with a bright grin.  "Come have a drink with me, pal.  I've been waiting."

"Waiting?"  Venom didn't like the sound of that, and he remained on his feet.  "I didn't even know I was coming in here."

He waved a hand carelessly.  "Aw, don't be like that.  I know you don't remember me yet, but there's no need to be so suspicious.  This is a party."

"Remember you…?"  Venom's eyes narrowed, and though he should have simply turned to leave, he couldn't help but be curious.  He wasn't known for forgetting a face.  Slowly, he sank into a chair next to the stranger and set his travel case at his feet.  "And where might we have met before?"

"Right here!  But you'll understand in a second."  The blonde extended his hand, and for the moment Venom wasn't so paranoid that he wouldn't shake it.  "Name's Axl—Axl Lowe.  Good to see you again."

Venom blinked in surprise.  "The Axl Lowe from the Tournament?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, that's right.  But let's not talk about that."  Axl waved his hand again.  "You gonna tell me your name, friend?"

Though he wasn't certain about the casual address, Venom at last decided there was no harm in giving him that much.  Even if a fighter from the Tournament was something to be reckoned with….  "It's Venom," he said quietly, so that no one around would hear.  He was interested to see Axl's reaction—his own name should have been just as well known as Axl's—but the man only smiled, as if he'd known all along.

"I know you're confused," Axl said with a smirk.  "But it'll make sense soon.  You see…."  He broke off suddenly, raising his gaze to the door.  His face lit with a grin.  " Ah.  There I am, now."

Venom turned to look for himself, and started at the sight of another blonde man in the same red coat and cap just entering the bar.  He looked just as startled to see the first Axl as Venom was to see him.  With something of a shaky smile, he moved to join them at the table.

"Hey, Axl," the original blonde greeted, giving the newcomer a hearty handshake.  "Long time to see!"

"Seems so, Axl," the other returned.  "You're looking good."

Venom glanced between the two men, wishing suddenly that he hadn't come in here to begin with.  "Twins…?" he ventured.

"Not exactly," the first Axl chuckled, tugging his look-alike into the chair next to him.  "But I can explain."  His blue eyes glimmered warmly in the dim bar lighting.  "Have you ever heard of time travel?"

The site of Ky's final activity for the night was a large, open apartment kept by a wealthy Englishman in Paris' northern quarter.  From what he understood there was a lovely view from the balcony, not that he expected being able to see it.  He found himself cornered time and time again by businessmen and politicians offering greetings of the season and complimenting him on his work in the past year.  Several inquiries were made to his ordeal in Italy only three months previous, to which he responded with easy assurance of his well being.

But Ky was fortunate that evening, and just half an hour into the gathering he managed to find a moment of peace for himself.  He didn't go so far as to venture outside, as that might have been construed by his host as anti-social, but he stood near the balcony doors to watch Paris's shimmering lights.  They would continue all through the night like this, as was the custom every year.  It would mean a lot of work for the sanitation crews in the morning, but for now everyone deserved their merriment.  It was for days like this that he had picked up a sword in the first place.

Ky sighed.  Already exhausted as he was, his mind was prone to drifting.  He sipped gradually from his wine glass as the party continued around him, just…allowing himself to remember.  And though his reminiscence at this time of year usually centered on the war, on memories of struggle and blood, at the moment he found himself thinking only of the most recent upheaval of his career.  He had reflected on it often in the past several months.  Despite all that had happened, the startling array of new experiences and the vividness of his memories, it all seemed far away now.  Sardinia's golden coast could not have been further away from the chilled, winter cityscape behind glass he viewed now.  And though he could only be pleased knowing The Bureau did not yet seem to be amassing punishment for the disruption of their plans, he was almost angry with himself for having slipped so easily back into his former way of life.

Ky closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath as he sometimes did when drawing his memories back to him.  When he was calm—and aided by the tingle of wine he had been consuming all night—he could pull back to him the sensation of warm, familiar magic flowing through him, made even more poignant by a fleeting brush of fingers, a pair of lips….

"Officer Kiske?"

Ky jumped, and just barely kept his wine from spilling as he turned to meet the unexpected company.  He didn't recognize the man, presumably a businessman or politician of some sort, but when his gaze fell to the boy at his side he blinked in surprise.  He looked to be in his mid teens, dressed handsomely in a dark, three piece suit.  His blond hair was slicked back to expose the full features of his round face, and most noticeably a pair of bright blue eyes.  He was watching Ky with a mature curiosity.

"My apologies," the man was saying, drawing Ky's attention back.  He extended his hand, which the officer quickly shook.  "We didn't mean to disturb you."

"It's all right," Ky assured, embarrassed over his lapse.  "Sir…?"

"Lonsdale," he introduced, and Ky stood a little taller with recognition—he was speaking to one of the wealthiest men in northern Europe.  "Richard Lonsdale.  I've really been looking forward to meeting you, Sir Kiske, it really is an honor."

"Likewise.  My officers in England continue to be grateful for your charitable support.  As do I."  He glanced at the boy, and was struck again by how familiar his appearance was.  "And this is…?"

Richard Lonsdale set a hand on the boy's shoulder, his face full of pride.  "My son Brandon.  He's young, but he'll be taking over for me before long."  He grinned.  "They grow up very quickly these days."

Instead of offering his hand, Brandon lowered his head in a respectful bow.  "It's an honor to meet you, Sir Kiske."  He paused.  "Is something the matter?"

Ky shook himself slightly—he'd been staring.  "My apologies," he said quickly.  "You resemble an acquaintance of mine."  He smiled in embarrassment.  "Very much so, in fact."

Brandon's eyes widened a little, blatantly pleased.  "Is that so?  Then you've probably met my sister."

"Your sister?"  Ky frowned slightly in confusion—Sir Lonsdale was shifting uncomfortably, looking as if he might interject.  "It's possible, but…."

"Bridget Lonsdale," the boy elaborated, and Ky was certain he couldn't have looked more surprised.  "She's in something of an interesting profession, so I'm sure you remember her."

Stunned and baffled as he was, Ky could only stare as Sir Lonsdale took his son's arm, giving him a firm look.  "Officer Kiske is a very busy man," he said with a nod of acknowledgement to their company.  "There's no need to trouble him with boasts of our family."

Ky was about to inquire further—the Bridget they were speaking of couldn't possibly be the one he was acquainted with—but just then one of the host's hired staff members came up behind them, and whispered something discreetly in Sir Lonsdale's ear.  The man paled a little and quickly disengaged himself from the conversation.  "I'm afraid there's something I need to see to," he said with a short bow.  "Forgive me, Sir Kiske.  But it was a pleasure to meet you."

"And you," Ky returned in kind, entirely too puzzled by everything taking place.  "I hope your matters aren't too serious."

"Thank you, for your concern."  Lonsdale bowed once more and turned to go, sending his son a sharp gaze in the process.  But the boy only smiled back and made no indication of moving; frowning, the man had no choice but to continue on without him.

Once his father had departed, Brandon turned once more to the confused officer.  "Can I speak with you a moment, Officer Kiske?  I believe I can explain."

"Yes…yes, please."

Ky followed him out onto the balcony; it was cool outside, but draped in his thick attire only his face was affected.  He was glad for the breath of fresh air, the exchange of boorish, idle chatter for the excited celebration of the city folk below.  Ky turned anxiously to face the boy.  "About Bridget…."

Brandon smiled knowingly.  "You're not mistaken," he assured, leaning his elbows against the balcony rail.  "I am talking about the Bridget you met in Italy—my _brother_, Bridget."

Ky sighed deeply, relieved that he hadn't quite lost his mind.  But the implication of Brandon's words couldn't be ignored.  "Then he told you about me?" he asked, all his attention leaping on the boy.  "You've heard from him?"

"Yes—I received a letter from him just last month."  Brandon continued to watch him, as if trying to fit Ky's appearance into what he'd read—Ky suddenly wished he had some idea as to the content of that letter.  "He spoke very highly of you."

Ky smiled; at least it sounded like Bridget was doing all right.  He wanted to ask if Bridget had perhaps mentioned another, but he held back.  "Then…why were you calling him your 'sister' just now?"

"It's something of a long story," Brandon admitted.  His gaze slipped away for a moment.  "I won't bother you with details.  But there is a superstition passed through the village where we—and our parents—were born.  Bridget and I are twins, you see, and it's considered terribly bad luck that the both of us are male."  He smiled grimly.  "Something to do with a pair of brothers in older times, though I'm sure it has more to do with how to split family fortunes between two legitimate heirs.  That sort of thing."

Ky frowned; he had heard of such superstitions in his travels, but he hadn't managed to catch on yet as to what Brandon was intimating.  "And, so…?"

"And so our parents raised Bridget as a girl," Brandon explained, his tone not without regret.  "At least, for the sake of the community.  As far as anyone knows, the Lonsdale family has one son and one daughter.  To avoid back luck, or so our mother says."

"I see…."  Now that he thought about it, Ky did remember that much about the Lonsdale family.  It had never occurred to him during his time with Bridget to ask about his family, his home….  A lot of things suddenly made more sense, and he was a little ashamed that he had never thought to inquire sooner.  "That must have been very difficult for him."

"Yes…more than he lets on."  Brandon straightened.  "I'm sorry—I don't mean to press our family's matters on you, but from what Bridget's told me in his letters, you two were friends.  You have the right to know."

Ky wasn't so sure about that—it seemed that something like this he should have heard from Bridget himself—but he nodded anyway.  When he saw Bridget next….  He shifted slightly.  "He…is doing well, then?" he asked carefully.  "I have not heard from him since we parted in Benevento."

Brandon smiled.  "Yes, he's doing very well.  Apparently he's traveling with someone, but he won't tell me much about that.  That's just how he is."

Ky straightened a little at that, his mind beginning to spin.  If Testament and Bridget were still together, there was no need to worry.  That, however, did not stop his curiosity from blossoming.  If not for the horrible breach of propriety it would be he would have asked to see Bridget's letter, just to assure himself, to hear of what he was doing.  Maybe he would even be able to draw some clues as to his travel companion that Brandon would have missed….

A figure dashed abruptly through the balcony doors, and Ky nearly reached for his sword as Brandon was pounced and forced against the railing.  The sound of laughter calmed him a moment later.  Brandon was wrapped up in the firm embrace of a young woman, who was giggling and bouncing happily as he ruffled her hair.  It appeared to be a heartfelt reunion, and Ky was just about to turn discreetly away when his gaze fell on the youth's face.  His jaw dropped faintly.  "Bridget…?"

The pair hushed, and when the newcomer turned there was no mistaking the wide, vibrant eyes that were fixed on him.  Bridget's already excited expression brightened, and he looked ready to pounce again when he suddenly stopped himself.  He ducked his head.  "Hey, Ky."

Though for a moment Ky was puzzled by his unusually quiet demeanor, the reason for it became clear enough when he took a good look at him.  Bridget was clothed in a dress traditional for the season, with a long skirt of light fabric and a long, pale blue and white veil trailing down his bare shoulders and back.  There was even a small bow set into the lace at the skirt's hem.  If Ky hadn't known better, he would have sworn he was looking at a girl.  He'd always known Bridget to be of a slight stature, but seeing that slender figure clad in silk and lace made the image almost flawless.

Bridget bit his lip, and Ky shook himself—his inattention was getting him into trouble today.  Not wanting Bridget to think that the outfit was bothering him he spread his arms slightly, parting his thick mantle.  "Is that how you greet an old friend?" he asked with a soft smile.

Bridget's head snapped up, his shoulders hunching a little as he watched Ky's sincere expression.  He managed a shaky smile of his own and leapt suddenly at the officer.  "I missed you!" he declared, wrapping his arms around Ky's waist tight enough to make him grunt softly.  "I'm sorry—I had to wear it, or I knew Father wouldn't let me in, and—"

"It's all right," Ky assured, his smile deepening as he returned the embrace.  His chest warmed with elation, and he chuckled.  "You've grown," he observed, setting a hand on Bridget's head.  "It's only been three months, hasn't it?  And you're—"

"Three centimeters taller," Bridget confirmed proudly, standing up on his toes to make it appear even more impressive.  His blush was visible even in the dark.  "Testament says my voice is probably going to change soon—won't that be funny!"

Ky felt something in him tighten at the mention of Testament's name—it was the first time he'd heard it spoken in months.  He managed to keep his smile from faltering.  "That is exciting."  He touched Bridget's arm.  "Looks like you've been working out, too."  The muscle beneath his fingers definitely seemed to be better toned than he remembered.

Bridget bounced happily, as if about to burst.  "You can tell?  Really, you can tell?"

"Yes, of course." Ky held him at arm's length to get a good look at him, for Bridget's sake.  "Has Testament been helping you?  It looks like you've been working hard."

"I really have!  Testament's tough, but I've really been…."  He trailed off, glancing behind him as if noticing his brother for the first time.  "Oh, yeah.  Ky, this is my brother—Brandon."

Ky chuckled.  "We've met," he assured, letting his hands fall from Bridget's arms.  "I hear you've been spreading rumors about me…?"

Bridget made an embarrassed face, blushing darker.  "It's all true," he protested, hopping lightly to Brandon's side.  He hooked his arm in his.  "Wasn't it, Brandon?  Isn't he just like I told you?"

"He certainly is," Brandon agreed exaggeratedly.  "And then some."

Ky wasn't sure exactly what they were talking about, and though that concerned him a bit he didn't question them.  But he felt as if his fingers were itching, and he had to ask.  "Bridget, you came for the festival, didn't you?  Did you…come alone?"

Bridget's gaze thinned slightly as he smiled.  "Well…" he teased, shifted back and forth on his feet.  "Not _really_…."

Ky sighed, though his mouth was dry and his insides tight.  Bridget was teasing him, which meant….  "Not really?" he echoed, trying to keep the eagerness from his voice.

"I gotta go back in," Bridget declared.  "You, too, Brandon.  Father wants you to leave the important man alone."  He gave his brother's arm a squeeze and then hopped over to Ky, rising up on his toes to offer a kiss on the cheek.  While they were still close he whispered, "He's here.  He's just lying low."

Ky's heart jumped a little, and then Bridget was pulling away, allowing his brother to escort him off the balcony.  The officer followed a step after them.  "Wait, what about—"

"I'll come see you in the morning," Bridget said over his shoulder with a wink.  "You're off duty on the third, right?  We'll have breakfast."

"It was good to meet you," Brandon added.

"But—"

"Seeya!"  Before Ky could ask any more questions Bridget laughed and dragged his brother back towards the rest of the party, into the folds of people once more.

Ky released a heavy breath and turned back to the balcony rail.  As he watched the city continue its merriment, he couldn't help a tiny, boyish smile.  "So…he is here."  He downed the rest of his wine in one breath.


	3. Chapter 2

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

Big thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chapter!  I know not much is happening yet, but this is something of a bigger cast than I'm used to (this fic is going to be long ).  But I hope you like it!

And thanks to Noodles3, who pointed out I misspelled Axl's last name in the last chapter ;;.  I'm going to blame the spell check on that one (heh heh).

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 2

Three drinks later—an uncommon number for the former Guild leader—Venom believed he was finally beginning to understand the circumstances around his pair of companions.  "So you're the same person," he stated, pointing to each in turn.  "And one of you is here normally—"

"That's me," the second Axl piped up.

"—and the other you is from the future."

The original Axl nodded, flushed with his own intoxication.  "And that's me."

"Isn't that…."  Venom rubbed idly at his eyes behind a thin curtain of hair.  "Isn't that…not supposed to happen?  The same person being in the same place at once…."

Both Axls shrugged, and at the same time asked, "Why not?"

Venom's shoulders sagged.  "I don't now.  I just thought…."

Original Axl smirked, though he paused to take another drink before explaining.  "It's happened before.  Look—one week from now, my better half here is going to pop back through time, to here.  He'll remember that he met us here, and come back, just like I did.  It's a loop.  Get it?"

"But…."  Venom's face screwed up into an expression of deep concentration, which would have amused his company had they been able to clearly see it.  "You knew to come here because you remembered meeting your future self here a week ago, in your time.  But how did _he_ know to come here in the first place?"

"Isn't it obvious?"  Axl shrugged again.  "At the time, he was the future me.  So _he_ must have remembered meeting _himself_ here a week earlier, too."

"But then…how did…."  Venom shook his head in confusion.  "There must have been an original.  The first Axl, who never met their future self."

"Why?" asked the second Axl.  "You're thinking to linearly.  Time doesn't work like that—it's possible to see the effect before the cause."  He turned to himself.  "Right?"

"Damn right."

"If you say so…."  Venom finished off the rest of his drink as he thought that over.  It…almost made sense.  Not much, but enough that he could accept it for now.  "Does this happen often?"

"Not too often," replied future Axl.  "And usually, it's not over too long a time—a few days, a few weeks, maybe."  He grinned.  "It's not so bad.  I've been able to see a lot of places—meet a lot of interesting people."

Venom frowned, his gaze dropping.  "You think I'm interesting?"

"Aren't you?"  He reached out, but the moment Venom felt fingertips brushing his hair he knew what he was up to, and flinched back.  Axl chuckled.  "Shy for an assassin, aren't we?"

"I'm wanted," Venom reminded him, leaning back in his chair to avoid any other unwanted gestures.  "And this is Paris.  Every Global Police officer on the continent is in this city."

Axl whistled appreciatively.  "No kidding."

"So why are you here?" asked the other.  "If it's so dangerous."

"I'm…."  Venom glanced away.  "I'm looking for a man," he confessed.

"Must be pretty important, to risk Paris during a holiday."

"It's is."

"Well."  The future Axl lifted his glass in a toast.  "Here's hoping you find the bloke!"

"Here here!" chimed his twin.

Venom hesitated; he wasn't at all used to this openness, this easy atmosphere and the almost…friendliness being expressed toward him.  He didn't want to trust it—and he didn't.  But he lifted his glass all the same, deciding it best to play along for now.  "May we find our way home after this," he added.

Both Axls faltered, one halfway through a gulp of his drink, and for a moment Venom felt almost guilty watching the flutter of discomfort over their faces.  He hadn't realized that he'd said anything questionable.  He could tell, though, that their reactions were genuine, and was oddly pleased that even if it turned out these men were to betray him, he had seen their true faces for an instant.

"Something wrong?" the assassin asked coolly.

The present Axl recovered himself first.  "Nothing," he quickly assured, his smile forced.  "Another drink?"

Chipp Zanuff released an explosive sigh of contentment as he slipped up to his neck in almost too hot spring water.  "Now this is more of what I had in mind," he told his companion pointedly, being careful not to get his hair wet.  He took in a deep breath of soothing steam.  "A hot bath, a little starlight...I can actually feel my feet!"

Anji smiled as he reached behind him for a small saucer of _sak_.  "I told you December in the Colony was a little different than the outside.  The real parties are just starting—are you sure you don't want to go down to the shopping district?"

"Naw.  If you make me speak any more Japanese, I'm gonna puke."  Chipp sighed again, though more quietly than before.  He settled in so the back of his skull was nestled between a pair of rocks.  "Besides, how could I pass up empty hot springs?"

"Yeah, no kidding."

They fell silent a moment, gazing up at a distant canopy of false stars.  Just beyond the line of darkened trees the sounds of celebration were blossoming.  Until presently the festivities of the day had been comprised of ceremonies and solemn dedications—remembrance for lives lost, entire lines of families severed in the devastation a century past.  For an outsider like Chipp it was difficult to comprehend the depth of sorrowful emotion passed through the whispered prayers and offerings, but he could feel it, and it was exhausting.  Accompanying Anji throughout the ordeal had only made his ill ease worse, as his companion was adamant about performing each rite to perfection, and prone to explaining every move and symbol to the greatest extent.

"Not all of your holidays are like this," Chipp said suddenly.  "Are they?"

"Only the ones commemorating massacres."

Both men started, gazes swinging to the figure standing at the edge of the spring which neither had heard approach.  "B-Baiken!" Anji squawked ungracefully, sinking lower into the water.  "What are you doing here?"

"This is the guys' side!" Chipp protested as he drew his knees in.

Baiken was clad in a simple bathrobe, illuminated by the gentle lamplight coming from the temple behind her.  Her hair was already tied up, and except for the eerie lack of limb to fill her right sleeve she appeared surprisingly feminine.  Until she spoke.  "I'm coming in.  Have a problem with that?"

"This is the _guys'_ side!" Anji echoed his friend's earlier complaint.

"We're going to fart and talk about tits," Chipp tried to warn her off.

Baiken rolled her eye in annoyance, but some of her usual biting sarcasm seemed to be lacking—even if she hadn't given her whole-hearted participation to every ceremony and service, she had been with them all day as well, and her exhaustion was showing.  "There are a few people on the women's side," she explained with a sharp shrug.  "Friends of Wakami's mother."

Chipp snickered.  "Aww, wha's'a matter?  Shy?"

Anji cringed a little, looking as if to offer his friend some warning, but it was too late.  Baiken glared at him evenly, and without a word turned her back on the pair.  A slight, jagged movement of her arm was all it took to let the robe slip into a pool around her ankles.

Chipp's eyes widened, lips parting in surprise at the sight of her.  But it wasn't Baiken's long limbs and toned physique that had captured his attention; rather, the map of twisted scars that stretched down her back.  The line of her left shoulder blade melted into her skin at an odd point as if some of the bone beneath had been cracked or removed, and there were several patches of skin that appeared to bear the memories of lacerations and burns.  None of those rivaled the spectacle that was her missing arm: the limb terminated just below her shoulder in a circle of dark metal, seemingly grafted directly to what remained of the bone and providing a mass of clasps which would normally be used to attach her many weapons.

Chipp gulped, and as Baiken stepped backwards into the tub he turned to Anji.  "None of those are…from me, right?" he asked in a fairly panicked whisper.  "When I was…."

"No," Baiken answered for him, making Chipp jump a little.  She turned to face them, and both men cringed away until they were certain she was well hidden beneath the night water.  "Don't be ridiculous—you're not good enough to get me in the back, Chipp Zanuff."

Chipp made a face, though his shoulders drooped with relief.  "Not my fault I don't remember it," he muttered, crossing his arms.

"Whatever.  Anji—pour me some _sak_."

 Anji did so with a shaky smile, while he was at it refilling his and Chipp's cups as well.  "I thought you'd be down in town," he tried to make idle conversation as they sipped from the alcohol.

"Like last year?" Baiken asked, gulping down her share of the drink on one breath.  "Getting myself stone drunk?

"She can do that anytime," Chipp said with a smirk.

She glared at him, but as long as there was no threat of physical violence in her face he wouldn't back down.  "There's nothing wrong," she muttered, "with wanting to spend a peaceful 'holiday'."

Anji nodded; despite their original anxiety at her appearance, he seemed pleased by the company.  "Well, I'm glad.  We've been here for weeks and it seems like we never see you."

Baiken frowned slightly as she shook her cup for him to refill.  "I've been busy."

"You should train with _us_ sometime," Chipp said.  He had spent the last two months since they'd reached the colony trying to get her to do just that; he couldn't remember their fight in Italy, but judging by the scar still fading from his shoulder it had been an impressive match, and he was interested in seeing Baiken's skill for himself.  "Unless you're, like, scared or something."

"Yeah, right.  You're not even worth the time."

"Now, now," Anji intervened.  "I'm sure Baiken would love to spend more time with her friends, if she wasn't so busy with…whatever it is she's being doing."

Baiken took her time with her refilled cup.  She hesitated a moment, and when she spoke her voice was firm, though a pitch lower.  "I've been visiting the Council."

"Council?" Anji echoed.

Chipp glanced between the two of them with a frown.  Even being in the Colony for as long as he had been, he still had only a barest idea of how things were run.  "The Council," he repeated.  "You mean, like with Wakami's dad?"

"The Council is in charge of looking after the Colony," Anji explained for his benefit.  "Looking after things, in place of a real parliament."

"Ahhh."

Anji turned his attention back to Baiken.  "So why are you talking to the Council anyway?  I thought you hated Chairman Murase."

"I do," Baiken confirmed, glancing vaguely away.  "But as long as his son still likes me, he'll at least see me, right?"  She took a sip.  "I've been trying to convince them to open the Colony."

Anji choked on his _sak_.  "You've what?"

"Open the Colony.  Don't you think it's about time?"  She paused for a sip of _sak_.  "We've been hiding in here like rats for a century now."

Chipp glanced between the two as he tried to understand what was passing between them.  "Open the Colony?  You mean, actually let people in?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"But…."  Anji frowned at her with concern.  "Why?  It's not like you cared about what goes on here before."

Though Chipp was momentarily surprised by the sudden tension between the pair—even when Baiken was at her worse Anji usually managed to stay light-hearted—he wasn't about to question.  He devoted himself to his drink and hoped he might go unnoticed.

"Let's just say I've been thinking," Baiken muttered, doing her best to look unaffected by Anji's unwavering attention.  "This place needs to be stirred up.  It needs to protect itself."

"Protect itself?  From what?"

"God, don't be so fucking naïve."

Chipp sank a little lower into the water with a wince.  "Here we go…."

"I know you were unconscious for most of it," Baiken started into it, forgoing her mask of indifference for a scowl, "but that doesn't excuse you for being completely ignorant."  She sat up a little higher, and Chipp tried to make himself look away, given the seriousness of their conversation.  "We've been sitting back in our little hole for decades, and what good has it done?  Made us fucking livestock, that's what."

Anji sighed, sinking back against the rocks behind him.  "Come on, Baiken.  No need to be overly dramatic."

"I'm not over-fucking-dramatic," she hissed at him.  Baiken had never been a gracious drunk.  "Don't you remember anything I told you?  The Ninth, the Bureau, _him_—"

"Baiken."  Anji refilled his cup, and when he offered the same to Chipp, he was all too quick to accept the extra alcohol.  "Didn't we kind of go through this already?"

"If we did, you must have forgot," she grumbled.  She downed the rest of her current drink and waved the empty cup at him.

Anji diplomatically eased it aside.  "I know you're worried about the Bureau," he said.  "And this Colony might not be much for people like us, but it's all everyone here has.  The best we can do is to keep it safe."

"Safe?" Baiken scoffed.  "You think it's _safe_ here?"  She turned abruptly to Chipp, who ducked lower so that his chin touched the water.  He didn't realize that he'd submerged his drinking glass in the process.  "Do _you _remember what I told you?"

Chipp gulped; he'd hoped not to get drawn into this.  "Yeah, I think so.  You mean…about what that woman said, right?  About the Gears…the Bureau…."

"Exactly."  She turned back to Anji with a sneer.  "All this time we thought we'd escaped—that we're _safe_ here.  But we're just where they want us, at their _disposal_.  Can you really live with that?"  She poked him hard in the shoulder.  "Well?"

Anji rolled his eyes, setting his cup down and urging the _sak_ away from them all.  "You're drunk."

"So?"

"So, you must have forgotten what happened," he tried to reason with her.  "Remember what it was like on the outside before we came here?  The whole world is looking out for the Bureau.  You should have a little more faith in Officer Kiske."  He leaned his arms against the edge of the pool.  "The Bureau's not coming anywhere near here."

"I'm not just talking about the goddamned Bureau!" Baiken snapped.  "I'm talking about the Gears—remember that?  That crazy shithead who pumped your skull full of crap?"

Anji's eyes thinned, and beside him, Chipp winced a little in sympathy.  This was not the first time he'd witnessed this argument between them during the course of their journey here, and he could predict its outcome with a fair amount of certainty.  That wouldn't make it any less unpleasant to watch: when Anji was upset it showed clearly in his face to the point of comedy, the way his cheeks flushed and his lips pursed.  It was like watching a child face down a bully .

"What he told me," Anji said as evenly as he could manage, "was not crap."

Baiken glowered at him; even bleary-eyed with intoxication she was formidable.  "He's a murderer and a madman—he's just waiting to finish us off."  She splashed at the water.  "All gathered up like fucking pigs to be slaughtered."

"I told you, that's not what he wants!" Anji protested, his voice rising.  "You didn't talk to him—you didn't hear what—"

"I didn't see him because you were trying to fucking kill me!"

Baiken turned abruptly, clamoring ungracefully out of the hot springs.  She slipped a little on the dampened stone but when Anji moved to help her she shoved him angrily way.  "Don't touch me," she hissed as she snatched up her discarded robe.  But between being drunk, angry, and one-armed, she didn't have an easy time drawing it back over her limbs.

"Baiken…."  Anji started after her, though he was careful to secure his towel around his waist as soon as he emerged from the water.  "Hey…just calm down, all right?  It's been a long day for everyone."

He reached for her again, but she jerked sharply away from him, still trying to get her stump of an arm through her robe's sleeve.  They fought back and forth a moment, until Baiken grew fed up with his insistence and shoved him hard in the chest.  "Don't you goddamn touch me!" she snarled, finally managing to draw the robe fully on.  "Stupid shit.  Maybe you'll believe me when he marches his Gears up your damn ass."

Though this was usually the part where Anji backed down and Baiken sulked off for even more booze, Chipp was surprised to see Anji hold his ground.  "You're only saying that because you don't understand," he said lowly.  "What he was trying to do."

"How…."  Baiken shuddered angrily, her pale eyes narrowed lethally in the dark.  "How can you even say that today?" she growled.  "An hour ago we prayed for the dead—have you forgotten them already?"

Anji gathered himself up; being twenty centimeters taller than her the effect was somewhat impressive, the way he looked down on her with a look of stern, almost parental patience.  Chipp couldn't remember having seen him like that before, and from the way Baiken's glare faltered he guessed she hadn't, either.  "No," he said quietly, but with conviction.  "I haven't."

Baiken stared at him, and for the first time in Chipp's memory she seemed to be at a loss for words.  Holding her robe closed against her chest she took a step back.  The moment was tense, and then Baiken turned abruptly to leave without a word.  Her bare feet made only a slight sound against the rocks.

Chipp licked his lips nervously as he climbed out of the pool and reached for his own towel.  "Anji…?"  He approached his friend slowly.  "Um…you okay?"

Anji sighed, his shoulder sagging as he turned to face the other.  "Yeah, I'm fine," he assured, lifting his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.  "Sorry you got dragged into it."

"Hey, no problem."  Chipp fidgeted—he was no good at dealing with other people's problems, especially between these two.  "Um, listen," he attempted.  "I'm sure she's just worked up because of today, you know?  And she's totally wasted, so…so I'm sure she was just blowing off some steam.  It wasn't personal."

Anji glanced at him, and his features curled into a faint grin.  "Thanks, Chipp."  His gaze lowered.  "She just doesn't understand.  I know with the Gears gone she needs someone to blame, but…it wasn't that man's fault.  He didn't intend for what happened…."

Chipp frowned.  "Do you…really believe that?"

"Yes.  I really do."  He chuckled.  "Does that make me naïve?"

Chipp scratched the back of his head and shrugged.  "Shit, I dunno," he mumbled.  "I mean, it's not like I know the guy.  How should I know if he was lying or not?"

Anji's smile deepened as he clapped Chipp on the shoulder.  "Well, thanks for that, I guess.  Come on."  He turned back for the jug of _sak_ and their cups.  "I think we're gonna need refills."

Baiken was aware that she wasn't in the best state of mind for what she was planning to do.  She hadn't bothered to change out of her robe and her hair had come out of its ties—the sight of her drew many curious stares from the men and women still wandering about the night festivals.  She gave them no notice; whenever she found herself back in the Colony, she always managed to draw attention with her slovenly appearance and scarred features.  Seeing her now, drunk and unkempt, could not have lowered their opinions of her much.

She was beginning to wish she hadn't returned here at all.  The Colony had always left her feeling anxious, the way it rested outside of time and reason, the way it never changed despite however many years passed between visits.  It was smothering and irritating.  And now, more frustrating than ever, now that she could see through its petty visage even more clearly.

After a few crude inquiries Baiken found herself outside a small restaurant not far from the temple she had just been at.  Ignoring the protests of the waiters she stomped inside and quickly found the object of her hastened search: a middle aged man with a thick mustache and beard was seated with his son and a few others along the restaurant's wall.  He was dressed in a casual green _yukata_, which completely spoiled the air of dignity and sophistication he had displayed earlier in the day during ceremony after ceremony.  His son, a tall young man with long, dark auburn hair, was pouring him a drink.  They were laughing together, and the sight of their enjoyment only darkened her mood further.

Baiken marched up to them and dropped to her knees, pounding her fist against the short table.  The men gasped in surprised as their drinks were spilled, and a thin crack ran up the length of the wood.  "Murase Sousuke," she all but growled.  "I need a word with you."

Murase accepted a napkin from his son to clear the _sak_ that had spilled onto his sleeve.  "And here I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow," he sighed.

"I need a word_ now_," she insisted, ignoring the stares of Murase's companions, as well as those of the restaurant's many other customers.  "Or I'll go to Paris myself."  When she glanced up she caught Murase's son Yuuya watching her with mixed annoyance and amusement, and she scowled at him.  "What the hell do you want?"

"You're the one interrupting," he replied, crossing his arms.  "You tell me."

"Baiken," Murase interrupted before she could respond.  "If this is about what we discussed before, it can wait until tomorrow."

"It _can't_ wait!" she insisted.  "How can you say that when all our lives are in danger!"

A murmur began to spread through the surrounding patrons as the two stared each other down.  Finally Murase averted his gaze.  "I understand your concern," he said evenly.  "But this is neither the time nor place for these discussions."

"Fuck you!" Baiken snarled, pushing to her feet.  She didn't realize that Yuuya had stood as well until she stumbled, and he caught her shoulder to keep her steady—her limbless shoulder.  Without thinking her arm swung, and the flat of her palm caught the man sharply across his face.  The sound of striking flesh silenced the room for a moment before it began to buzz again, louder than before, at her boldness.

The Chairman's son rubbed his already reddening cheek with a smile that was almost a wince.  "You only slap when you're drunk," he told her.

Baiken seethed, a moment away from striking him again when Murase's voice cut above the restaurant's din.  "Baiken.  You can state your case in Council like everyone else."  Reluctantly she glanced down to meet his steely gaze.  "Unless you have some new information for us that would make the matter urgent, this is not the time for this."

"But he's still alive!" Baiken continued to protest.  She could feel herself shaking by now.  It was unlike her, and there was bile burning in the back of her throat.  "That man is alive, and he'll—"

"You have no proof of that!" Murase snapped back, unwavering.  When she faltered and fell silent, he nodded slightly in approval.  "Now go.  Come back to me when you're sober."

Baiken shuddered, her fist clenched in anger as she glared at the man's now turned head.  "I…have proof," she hissed.  But it was no more than a whisper, and with the sounds of the restaurant resuming Murase didn't hear.  "He's alive.  He…he met him…."

Murase gave her presence no more notice, and with a growl she lashed out, catching the table with her foot and overturning it into the laps of Murase's guests.  They protested loudly, and one of them reached for her, but by then she had spun on her heel and started for the door.

"Fools," she muttered under her breath as she stalked out into the streets once more.  "Let them all burn."  Still shaking slightly she broke out into a run, letting herself get lost in the crowds.

Yuuya watched her leave without daring to comment or stop her; his eyes were narrowed on her back until he could no longer see her still posture and flailing hair.  Finally, he knelt down to help his company right the table and gather the fallen cups.

"My apologies, gentlemen," Murase said as he signaled for the waiters to approach; they were all hesitant, as if fearing Baiken might suddenly reappear with even greater wrath.  "But then, things are always lively when she comes back."

The men grumbled replies, snorting at her impertinence and expressing their disgust with her appearance and drunken behavior.  Yuuya didn't remark—didn't speak until the dinner conversation had resumed, and he was allowed a moment to whisper in his father's ear.  "I think you were right, Father.  About Mito."

Murase didn't look to his son, but he nodded, vaguely.  "She said something?"

"Yes."

Murase sighed.  "Well, then," he said quietly.  "Take care of it."


	4. Chapter 3

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission.  This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

Thanks again, reviewers!!  To those of you who've supported me since Culmination, and especially Uzumaki and Shetan for their long and thoughtful reviews, I really appreciate it!  I'm in the process of moving so the next chapter might not show up for a little longer than usual.  Sorry!  But I hope you enjoy this chapter. .

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 3

By the time Ky returned to his small house in the downtown of Paris, the hour had progressed past two in the morning.  He was exhausted, perspiring within the thick folds of his full uniform, and already growing stiff from all the tension that day entailed.  When he finally stepped through his front door his shoulders sagged with a long, weary sigh.  "Finally," he murmured, closing the door with a decisive thud behind him.

Ky Kiske's home, despite belonging to a prestigious world hero, was not in itself very remarkable.  From the front door was a short, thin hall lined with closets, preceded on the left by a staircase to the upper level and a small foyer for visiting guests on the right.  The hall opened into a modestly decorated living room with a pair of small sofas and a glass sliding door which led to a stone patio and tiny garden.  Attached to the living room were the kitchen and dining room, and to the left a bathroom, and another stairway leading into the basement where his two housekeepers would do the laundry.  The bedroom and study took up the upper floor.

It was simple—it was just what it needed to be, and it suited Ky's purposes.  His housekeepers saw more of it than he ever did, as he spent nearly all of his time on duty, or else working in the study.  He had given them time off for the holidays, and the house was quiet and dark without the extra light on that was usually left for him.  Ky moved slowly down the hall, pausing at an intricate display case on his right to store his Thunderseal.  His cape followed suit in a separate closet, and his uniform top should have as well if not for the sudden disinterest he had in fumbling with all the straps and buckles.  Instead he wandered down the short hall and sank into a soft chair near the glass patio window.  At some point it had started to snow, and the faint white powder stuck to the dead earth that would, come spring, bear vibrant flowers again.

He should have been celebrating.  This entire season was supposed to one of thanksgiving and jubilation, and even now he could still hear the cheerful songs echoing from distant streets.  But as was always the case, year after year, he merely felt cold.  With the memories of the war so close to his surface there was scarcely room in him for merriment.  It helped very little that the praises lifted to him, to his order, were all but meaningless.  It had been no strength of his that brought salvation to the world.  As a captain, all he had ever done was watch casualties increase.

"Ky."

The voice came softly in the stillness of the darkened room, and Ky jerked to his feet with a start.  His hand brushed at the space Thunderseal should have occupied at his hip as he scanned for the intruder.  "Who's there?"

The shadows on his left rippled, peeling away from the form of a man as he stepped out of the thin hall.  Even in the dark Testament's face was pale.  "It's me," he greeted quietly.

Ky stared at him for a long time, as if unable to make himself realize that what he was seeing was real.  It had only been three months and yet he felt dimly surprised that the Gear had not changed in anything but his attire—he was draped in a long black coat that reached from neck to ankle, and with his face the only part of him bearing color he could have very well been rendered invisible against the dark even without his magic aiding him.  Ky's fingers curled.  "Testament…?"

Testament shifted his weight uncertainly.  "You…told me to visit," he explained somewhat nervously.

"I did."  Ky stepped around the sofa, too swiftly, and paused awkwardly just in front of him.  Though his chest was swelling with elation he himself was suddenly unsure.  He didn't even know how to properly great him: formally, casually, intimately…?  He managed a shaky smile.  "Though when I did, I meant sooner than three months later."

Testament shrugged slightly.  "We came mostly by foot.  Bridget wanted the time to train—so he could surprise you."  He hesitated, and then offered, "Sorry."

"No, it's…it's fine."  Ky took a deep breath.  "I'm glad you came.  You…look well."

"You…."  Testament paused, his brow furrowing as if he were about to say something and then changed his mind.  He frowned.  "You look awful."

Ky chuckled and lowered his eyes.  "It's been a long day for me," he explained.  "With everything…."

He trailed off when a gloved hand touched his cheek, urging his gaze back up.  He met Testament's eyes tentatively.  His insides quivered a little with the close proximity as his mind filled with familiar remembrances.  The hand slid to his shoulder, then behind his neck, and before Ky could wonder how to react to the touch he found himself against Testament's chest, warm arms enveloping him.  The feeling of having a strong body supporting him abruptly stole the rest of his strength, and without a sound Ky sagged wearily against that solid frame.

The pair was still for some time, and Ky was grateful for Testament's unquestioning support.  Finally he felt steady again and started to ease back.  "I'm sorry," he said quietly in embarrassment.  He glanced toward the kitchen.  "I should offer you something—you've come a long way, and you probably didn't get a chance to visit the festivals, did you?  You must be hungry."

"It's all right," Testament assured, keeping a hand on his shoulder.  He seemed to be able to easily tell how close Ky felt to simply collapsing.  "I did eat."

"Oh, good."  Ky turned back, and in meeting Testament's eyes found himself again at a loss for words.  He simply wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to the Gear.  Three months ago they had been enemies, companions, and eventually lovers, all in the span of a few short days.  He couldn't help but wonder if such a brief time meant anything now, thousands of miles away, practically in another world.

"You look exhausted," Testament observed.

"It's just this time of year," Ky confessed.  He wasn't sure if it was much of a help, to find himself wearing down the evening with a Gear.  "I'm sorry.  I want to hear how you've been—what you and Bridget have been doing—but…."

Testament regarded him silently a moment; there was no interpreting the calm expression he wore.  "Come on," he said abruptly, giving his arm a tug.  "I'll take you to bed."

Ky blinked in surprise, but by then Testament was turning way, leading him back towards the hall.  He smiled faintly as he followed along.  "I can find my way in my own house."

"Then I'm making sure you don't pass out on the way," Testament replied.  There was a note of teasing in his voice that made Ky's smile deepen.

They climbed the stairs together, and Ky was suddenly grateful that Testament had decided to lead him after all; having been on his feet all day even a short flight to the second story made his knees ache.  The sight of his bed, the sheets thoughtfully turned down and awaiting him, nearly pulled him in without shedding any of his uniform.  Before he could move to it, Testament's hands fell over him to begin undoing the fastenings on his thick attire.  He sighed.  "Thank you."

Testament paused to take his gloves off before returning to his work.  "I hear you've been very busy lately," he remarked as he eased the outer layer of Ky's top off his shoulders and tossed it aside.  Ky was too tired to protest his rough treatment of the material as his gloves followed.  "Taking on the Assassin's Guild."

Ky smiled grimly, and when he reached to help Testament with the buckle across his chest his hands were pushed away.  He relaxed and allowed the Gear to do as he pleased.  "Yes.  We've made tremendous progress—they've all earned the holiday."

"And you?"

Ky chuckled quietly.  "I suppose I've earned it, too."

Testament's fingers brushed against Ky's bare shoulders as he finished removing the thin belts that crossed his undershirt, and Ky couldn't help a tiny shiver.  Despite being exhausted he could feel the underlying tension between them, the way they shifted and watched each other as if testing.  Neither knew what to say or how to act.

"Bridget wouldn't talk about anything else," Testament told him as he tugged at Ky's shirt.  "Wondering how you're doing, wanting to see you…."

"I did see him earlier."  It didn't seem appropriate to mention the circumstances, in case Testament didn't already know about Bridget's family situation.  He lifted his arms.  "He's seems to have done well by your training."

"It's not training so much as playing around, I think…."

Testament pulled the other's shirt off, in the process his hands skating up Ky's ribs and arms.  Ky's fingers curled slightly.  He didn't want to admit that the past several months had been…lonely.  After the time he had spent with the pirates he had become somewhat accustomed to the sound of breath echoing back to him in the dark.  And for one night, he had remembered what it was like to have another pressed against him, warm and accepting.  He had missed it.  With the memories of such intimacy always close in his mind, returning every night to a dark, empty room had worn at him; having Testament here now only made him recognize that loneliness for what it was even more so.

As soon as Ky was free of his shirt he leaned abruptly forward; his fingers twisted in the front of Testament's jacket as he pulled him into a firm, long-awaited kiss.  The Gear stiffened in surprise.  It lasted only a moment, and then Ky was bound again in strong arms, Testament's mouth hot and insistent against his own.  He murmured between them in quiet relief.  Testament's lips were just as full, his hands just as broad as he remembered, and he could not have been more pleased to know he wasn't the only one who had been waiting for this moment.

Ky pulled back reluctantly when his breath ran out.  "I'm glad," he whispered, knowing Testament would understand.  Whatever had taken place between them, it might not have been a mistake.

"You're exhausted," Testament returned lightly.  His uncertainty seemed to have vanished; he drew his hands up to Ky's shoulders, massaging the tight muscles.  It was blissful, and when Ky sagged against him with a grateful murmur he chuckled softly in his ear.  "See?  We can…reminisce in the morning."

Ky smiled boyishly into Testament's shoulder.  "Will you stay?" he asked, inexplicably embarrassed.  "It's not a large bed, but…."

"We've made do with worse," Testament reminded him with a smirk.  He eased Ky back.  "Go ahead.  I'll be right there."

"All right."  All too pleased that he wouldn't be spending the night alone, Ky slipped out of his boots, socks, and—with a blush—his pants.  As he slid beneath the blankets he snuck a peek at Testament, who had stripped out of his coat and was removing the familiar bands of black leather.  When he'd finished Ky was a bit surprised to see Testament's choice of undergarments was little more than a black thong.  When Testament caught him watching he made a face and dropped onto the bed with him.  "Something wrong?"

"You're bolder than I am," Ky chuckled, relaxing into his pillow.  Testament crawling over him, his eyes flashing in the dark, made Ky's insides tighten.

Testament rolled his eyes, giving Ky's shoulder a tap.  "Turn over."

Ky did so somewhat reluctantly, but when Testament's hands returned to massaging his stiff shoulders and back, he quickly surrendered.  "You don't have to do this," he murmured as his eyelids fluttered shut.  He stretched and settled himself.  "But…thank you."

"Just got to sleep," Testament's low voice floated down to him.  "We can talk in the morning."  
  
Ky smiled.  He would have liked to remain awake a while longer, to feel more of Testament's hands, but he was already taking the Gear's advice.  With a quiet sigh he relaxed against his pillow and was soon deeply asleep.

"Uh…what time is it?"

"Sometime…after four, I think."

"Bugger that."

Venom frowned, and he was just thinking of how irritating drunkards were when he stumbled, barely catching himself on the inn wall as his long travel case bumped against his knee.  He had certainly had his fair share of alcohol that evening.  Or morning, as it now seemed to be.  When he looked to his unlikely companion he found Axl leaning against the opposite wall, eyes closed and smile lazy.  With a sigh he tugged the man's coat sleeve and urged him on.  "The room," he said firmly.  "What number was it?"

"115," Axl mumbled.  He allowed Venom to lead them down the narrow hall to the room he had reserved earlier.  They had parted with the second Axl not long ago when they could no longer find cheap alcohol, and with the promise of a room for the night—without having to offer an innkeeper his name—Venom couldn't refuse the remaining blonde.  Looking rather ridiculous in the process they had somehow managed to find the correct inn after three tries, and were now making a journey of discovering the right room.

Venom was surprised with himself.  It was absurdly unlike him to act with such little caution.

The pair reached room 115 at the end of the hall and, being the slightly less intoxicated of the two, Venom fitted the key into the door and allowed them to enter.  He was surprised, but relieved, to see a pair of beds awaiting them.  "You reserved a double?" he asked as they stumbled inside.

"I knew you were comin', remember?" Axl chuckled.  He fell, face first, onto the closest bed.

Venom closed the door behind him, removing only his shoes as he spilled onto what seemed to be his sleeping space.  His luggage he took slightly better care of in placing on the floor in easy reach.  "I still don't understand," he confessed as he stretched out against an uncommonly soft mattress; he hadn't felt anything like it in perhaps years, and he nearly fell asleep right there.  Axl's reply caught his attention before he had the chance.

"Understand what?  I 'splained the time travel."

"That, I understand," Venom was able to say, amazing himself.  "But I still don't understand…why me?"  Neither had bothered to turn on a light when they'd entered, and so when he glanced over at Axl was only barely able to make out his features in the dark.  "There are so many people here…why did you…?"

Axl dragged himself more comfortably onto the mattress with a soft groan.  "I dunno.  That was a different me."

"But…you're still the same person…."  Venom relaxed onto his back, frowning to himself.  "This is strange."

"Isn't it?"  Having twisted onto his stomach, Axl stretched lazily.  "But I dunno.  You look pretty interesting, I guess."  He yawned.  "An assassin in Paris.  This man you're chasing…must be sumthing."

Venom was about to reply that he wasn't exactly a "man," but it would have been too difficult an explanation given their relative states.  "He is," he said instead.  As he stared up at the ceiling his view began to blur at the edges, and he sighed softly.  "I don't know if I can win."

"Ooh, it's a job.  What if y'can't kill him?"

Venom closed his eyes.  He suddenly remembered why he didn't usually drink; it was harder to lie.  "In that case," he murmured, not caring if Axl was really listening, "I'll make him kill me."

The room was silent, and Venom was sure that Axl had simply fallen asleep when the man shifted slightly.  "Bummer."

Venom's lip curled slightly in a bitter smile.  "Maybe."

Axl shifted again, and after another quiet moment Venom could hear him snoring quietly.  He sighed.  It didn't matter what Axl thought, after all.  He had been the one that called him over, that invited him here—if he was disappointed with his guest now it was his own fault.  Venom hadn't asked for any of this.

He twisted into his side, away from the man, slipping beneath the top blanket as he, too, fell asleep.

The ceiling of his small room at the back of the temple wasn't the most exciting thing Chipp had seen all day.  For the moment, though, it seemed a good alternative to sleeping.  The buzz from the alcohol he and Anji had shared earlier had long since worn down, leaving him lethargic and bored, but he knew that going to sleep now would only hasten him waking up to a hangover.  He usually didn't let himself drink at all anymore let alone to excess, and he always paid for it.

More than that, he could still hear Anji pacing across the mats two rooms away.  Baiken hadn't come back yet.

There was a light knock on the panel to his room, and Chipp called for whoever it was to enter; anyone coming to visit him at this early hour should be interesting.  He wasn't at all disappointed when the face that peeked inside was that of Murase Sousuke's daughter, Wakami.  She was a beautiful young Japanese girl, with long, silk-black hair that reached to her waist and bangs cut straight across her eyebrows.  Being the caretaker of her parent's shrine she had been looking after Anji, Baiken, and him during their stay in the colony.  He'd never seen her out of her shrine robes, as was the case now as she stepped hesitantly inside.  "Can you not sleep, Zanuff-san?" she asked, her voice thickly accented.

Chipp sat up quickly, blushing a little at having been caught by her in only his boxers.  "Oh, hi," he greeted with a boyish smile.  He suddenly wished his Japanese was good enough for him to speak with, to make it easier on her.  "You're up pretty late, aren't you?"

Wakami blushed as well as she took another hesitant step inside.   "So are you," she replied.  "Can you not sleep?  Should I get something for you?"

"Ah, no, I'm fine," Chipp replied with an embarrassed laughed.  He always felt a little silly when Wakami was around; the way she fixed her adorable dark eyes on him made him want to grin stupidly.  "You shouldn't have to look after me."

"You're our guest," she replied brightly.  "My father said to look after you all, and…I would like to help you when I can."  She lowered herself gracefully to her knees beside him.  "Are you sure there is nothing I can do?  Or…."  She ducked her head.  "Are you worried about Baiken-san?"

"Well…."  Chipp shrugged.  "Not worried, really.  Just…you know…."

The sound of footsteps echoed to them from down the hall, and Chipp cringed a little as he recognized them as their missing companion.  "Like I said—not worried."

Even knowing Baiken was coming, Chipp and Wakami both flinched a little when she appeared in the open doorway.  She looked just as disheveled as she'd left, though by now was somewhat more sober.  She set Wakami a pointed glare and then marched past her into the room.  "I'm sleeping in here," she declared as she dropped onto the mats behind Chipp.

Chipp and Wakami exchanged glances.  "Um…why?" Chipp asked hesitantly.

"Because."  She didn't bother with finding an extra futon, choosing instead to stretch herself out on her side, facing away from them. 

Chipp frowned, and when he looked again to Wakami she ducked her head again.  He sighed.  "Wakami, thanks for looking after me, but it's pretty late.  I think I'm going to go to bed now."

"All right."  Wakami bowed shortly, then pushed to her feet.  "Goodnight, Zanuff-san.  Baiken-san."  With another bow she departed, closing the panel behind her.

Quietly, Chipp arranged his futon and slipped beneath the blankets, attempting to give Baiken the space she seemed to need.  She wasn't asleep—he could tell by the strange aura of tension in the room as he tried to find a comfortable sleeping position.  At last he spoke up.  "Anji's been worried.  You should let him know you're back."

Baiken snorted, and when she didn't reply he tried a different tactic.  "Did you go into town like that?"

"I needed to talk to him," she muttered, her voice hoarse with fatigue.

"That Murase guy?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

Chipp fell silent again—that was about the limit of his ability to cope with people in the state she was in.  He rolled over, intending to go to sleep and let Anji worry about it in the morning.  The sound of Baiken's voice caught his attention before he could do so.

"Something's going to happen."

"Huh?"  Chipp twisted to face her once more.  "What do you mean?"

"Something's going to happen to this place."  Baiken curled in a little on herself.  "And I'm not supposed to care, but…it means something to Anji.  To Wakami and Miyuki.  And I can't stop it if no one will listen…."

Chipp sat up, a little startled to think that Baiken was really trying to tell him something important.  It wasn't just her paranoia or anger—she really did know.  "What…"  He gulped.  "Like what?

Before Baiken could answer the sound of many heavy footsteps echoed down the hall to them.  "Mito Anji!" a voice was calling, followed by others Chipp couldn't make out.  He glanced to Baiken.

"Something like this," Baiken muttered, not looking up.

Chipp frowned at her, but as the footsteps drew nearer he pushed to his feet and investigated.  A group of men was coming down the hall with Murase Yuuya at the lead, followed by a flustered and protesting Wakami.  Further down Anji finally appeared from his room to meet them.  "What's going on?" the Japanese man asked as he wiped his glasses on his T-shirt.  "It's—"

"I'm sorry about this, Anji," Yuuya said evenly, resting a hand on the sword at his hip, "but I have to bring you in."

"Bring me in?"  Anji replaced his glasses on his nose.  "Why?"

"Yeah," Chipp added impetuously, "what for?  What's going on?"

Yuuya smirked without humor.  "You'll see, all right?  Come on."  He waved for Anji to come forward, and as the men shifted behind him, it was then that Chipp noticed they were all armed, and a few were carrying lengths of sturdy rope.

Anji stared the men down a moment, when suddenly his face paled a shade.  "This is about _him_, isn't it?" he asked softly.  His jaw clenched.

"Afraid so.  So if you don't mind…"

Chipp glanced between them, and the realization hit him just after it had Anji.  "It was Baiken," he breathed, watching helplessly as Anji stepped closer and allowed Yuuya to begin leading him towards the exit.  "She told you about how Anji, and the Gear man…."

They didn't look at him—the men parted to let Yuuya and Anji pass, as if…Anji were just going to let them get away with this.  "Wait," Chipp started to protest.  "Are you fucking arresting him?  He didn't do anything—"

He reached for Yuuya's arm, and was stopped by one of the men he had brought.  Chipp cursed and thrust the man aside.  "What the hell is this?" he shouted angrily.  "Anji, don't—you don't owe these shits—"

"It's all right."  Anji met his gaze briefly before turning, starting on his own to the door.  "I'll tell them what I know."

The men followed him, and Chipp could only gape, frustrated but helpless, as they disappeared outside.  Yuuya was the last to go, and he sent Chipp a lopsided smirk before he, too, was gone.  Leaving Chipp and Wakami to gape after them in confusion.

"Baiken…."  Chipp whirled, stomping back into his room.  "Baiken, aren't you going to do something?" he demanded at her turned back.  When she didn't reply he scowled and came further inside, moving around in front of her.  "Didn't you hear what just happened—Anji's been arrested!  Don't you—"

He crouched down, intending to give her a good shake, but he stopped before he could touch her.  Baiken was already sound asleep.


	5. Chapter 4

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material. C&C very welcomed.

OMG does anything happen in this chapter??? I'm sorry it's going so slow. But there'll be blood in the next chapter, I promise. And a new character. And blood. And the beginning of plot…I think…but if nothing else, blood.

Seeya there .

Sorry about the scene markers disappearing, formatting still baffles me sometimes.

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 4

Ky had slept so soundly through the night, it wasn't until he heard his housekeeper reach the top of the second floor stairs that he stirred at all. He blinked himself awake, frowning, as he remembered having giving both the young woman who attended to him the holiday to themselves. "Rosaline?"

"Yes, Master Kiske?" The door twisted open, and Ky jerked upright—remembering suddenly that he had not come to bed alone. But Rosaline, a bright-eyed young woman with brown curls, only smiled warmly at him. "Good morning, Sir. I'm sorry if I woke you."

Ky blinked down at the bed he occupied, only to find it empty save for himself. Testament's clothes, too, were gone from where they had been carelessly dropped among his uniform on the floor. He frowned in confusion. "I did give you the morning free, did I not?" he asked, wondering if perhaps this was not the morning after the festival after all. If he maybe had dreamed it…

"Oh, you did," Rosaline replied, her smile sobering. She bent down to gather up his uniform. "But I know it's a strain on you, sir. I thought I might at least prepare breakfast and a bit of laundry, if that's all right."

"That's not necessary…but thank you."

"Take your time, sir."

As Rosaline closed the door behind her, Ky turned his attention back to his room. It was already late in the morning, as was proven by the soft morning light streaming through his eastward window. The space beside him on the bed was still warm, and as Ky ventured closer to the edge of the mattress, he finally discovered his missing companion. Relieved and amused, he grinned against the back of his hand. "Sorry."

Testament stared up at him, his coat and clothing held against his chest, having dragged them into hiding with him half under the bed. "Did she see me?"

"I don't think so." Ky reached down and, abandoning his things, Testament allowed himself to be tugged back onto the bed. "I didn't think she was coming today. She and Tessa take care of the house for me."

"I see." Testament glanced at the door. "She won't come back up, will she?"

"Probably not—she's always left me to my privacy."

"Good." Testament turned abruptly, pressing a hand to Ky's chest to force him onto his back. The officer managed a short intake of breath before the Gear's hot mouth was over his, demanding of him a heated kiss that made his toes curl.

Ky was grinning breathlessly as Testament pulled back once more. "I suppose it's time for me to greet you properly."

"I'd been hoping as much," Testament returned, settling himself over the officer. His eyes gleamed hungrily, and as he leaned in again his lips darted instead to the sensitive flesh below his jaw.

Ky breathed an appreciative sigh and twisted his fingers in locks of thick ebony. "I'm glad you came," he murmured. Testament's warm hands gliding over his bare chest and sides were easily awakening his memories, and it made his pulse rise into his ears. "I was beginning to think that maybe…."

"Sorry." Testament drew his hand firmly along the inside of Ky's thigh. "I'll make it up to you."

Ky's breath caught, but before Testament could go any further they were alerted to a thunder of footsteps making their way hastily up the steps. Before Ky could get his thoughts well enough in order the door was being flung open, followed by a flash of blue and blonde, a squeak, and the door closing just as abruptly.

Ky blinked, staring at the door in confusion. "What…?"

"Bridget," Testament explained for him, slumping onto his side.

"Sorry!" came the boy's flustered voice from behind the door. "I'm sorry—she said you were awake, so I—sorry!"

Ky sighed. "It's all right, Bridget," he called back. It wasn't until then that he remembered Bridget's promise of breakfast from the night before. "Could you wait downstairs for us? We'll be right there."

"Sure!" Bridget chirped, and then was bounding down the stairs once more.

Ky relaxed, and when he looked to Testament was amused to see his cheeks colored with embarrassment. He tugged him down into a kiss. "We shouldn't keep them waiting."

"I suppose not." Testament watched him thoughtfully a moment. "You know," he murmured, "you shouldn't underestimate him. He's very fond of you."

"Oh?" Ky smiled faintly as he folded his hands over his stomach. "He's a good boy. I suppose it's not unusual for someone his age to look up to an officer."

Testament's lip curled. "If that's all you see it as, you're going to get yourself in trouble."

Ky frowned, but when he started to question Testament cut him off with another kiss. "Come on," the Gear said against his lips. "He'll be waiting."

The pair dressed, Ky in a fresh white shirt and pants and Testament in his leathers, and when they descended found Bridget bustling about in the kitchen. "Rosaline's down in the laundry," Bridget said as he poured them each a cup of tea. He himself was in yet another new outfit: a pressed white shirt with a high collar and pearl buttons, with a dark blue vest and trousers. "I told her I'd finish up with breakfast." He smiled at them, though when his eyes met Ky's he blushed and turned back to preparing their plates.

"I should be serving you," Ky chuckled as he took a seat. "You being a guest."

"Oh, I don't mind," Bridget quickly assured. "I'm just sorry about…um, interrupting you."

Ky blushed, catching a knowing glance from Testament. He coughed lightly. "Um, it's all right."

Though upon her return from the basement Rosaline was startled to find her master entertaining yet another guest, she didn't question—in fact seemed inordinately pleased that Ky had visitors to spend the morning with at all. It wasn't until she mentioned as much that Ky realized this was the first time in several years he had spent this day with any manner of company. Usually he would have taken his breakfast alone, and until the evening spent his hours in idle study. He was beginning to see that he much preferred celebrating the winter season with companions.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to spend the entire day with you," Ky said as they reached the last of their breakfast. Rosaline had gone by now, and his freshly cleaned uniform hung ready in the closet for him. His eyes slid to it grimly. "There is one last ceremony for me to attend this evening."

"The memorial, right?" Bridget said brightly, but when he saw the expression Ky bore he lowered his voice a little. "I've never been before. Is it all right if I come along?"

"I don't think it will be very enjoyable for you, but if you like." The prospect of having Bridget with him made Ky's spirits lift a little…until he looked to Testament. The Gear was watching him closely. "I'm sorry, Testament, but you're welcomed to wait for us here. There are several books up in my study; I'm sure there's at least one that might interest you."

Testament sipped the last of his tea. "I'm not invited?" he asked evenly.

Ky faltered somewhat. "Well…." He glanced away, feeling something cold and hollow slide into his ribs. "It's a public memorial. But it will be attended mostly by former members of the Holy Order. And you—"

"As a Gear, I wouldn't be welcome." Testament pushed some of the hair from his eyes. "I understand."

Ky started to protest, but his voice fell short. The hollow sensation in his gut seemed to swell as he watched Testament and realized that he could not say that he wanted him to come. The December Third Memorial was, for the veterans of the Holy Order, a day to mourn their comrades away from the city celebrations. He could not imagine walking among their solemn ranks with a Gear at his side, no matter what history they now shared. And he was ashamed to admit it was his own pride that made him feel as such.

"I'm sorry." Ky lowered his head guiltily. "It would be inappropriate."

"I understand."

Bridget glanced between the pair and shifted in his chair. "Maybe we can bring back something to eat afterwards," he suggested. "And have dessert together."

"That would be fine," Ky was quick to agree. "And in the meantime, we still have the day together. I want to hear all about what the two of you have been up to." He looked to Testament hopefully. If he could possibly spend this day pleasantly…

"Of course." Testament drew his gaze back, to Ky's relief, and nodded. "You're not on duty today, correct? I can't exactly see the city with you both, but we should be able to amuse ourselves here."

"Yes. Would you like to move to the foyer?" Ky suggested, pushing to his feet. "There's much I'd like to hear."

Anji had to admit, he had been in worse prisons before. Seeing as the bars were made of wood he probably could have easily escaped, had he chosen to. Not that it would help much in proving his innocence in whatever it was Murase thought he had done. He had spent all morning answering the Council's questions, most of which several times over, relating all he knew of his meeting several months ago with the man who created the gears. And he had tried, with each repetition, to stress what the man had told him: that he had not wanted the Japanese people destroyed. That he regretted the war deeply. These seemed to be the only pleas of his that no one would listen to.

As the prison was underground there was no way of knowing exactly how much time passed after his interrogation. By then his wrists were sore and throbbing from being bound behind his back, and his stomach was rumbling hollowly. He was beginning to think they had decided to leave him here indefinitely when the door at the end of the hall suddenly opened.

"Anji!" Chipp, still dressed only in his boxers and a robe from the night before, dashed down the line of cells to him. "Fuck, are you all right? I've been trying to get in all goddamned day—what the hell happened?"

"Chipp…" Anji sighd in relief, until he saw Yuuya join his friend at the cell door. "What's going on?"

"You're being released," Yuuya stated plainly as he unlocked the cell and tugged it open. "I'm to take you back to the temple, where you'll stay until the Chairman says so."

Anji smiled bitterly. "I guess that's a nicer cell than this."

Yuuya smirked as he stepped inside to undo the bindings on Anji's wrists. "You weren't planning on leaving the Colony anyway, were you? I thought you'd want to see the result of all the commotion you've caused."

"Commotion?"

"You'll see, once the Council is finished deliberating." Yuuya stepped back into the hall and motioned Anji to follow.

Anji did so, rubbing his sore wrists as he allowed Yuuya to lead him out of the prison. All the while Chipp all but bounced anxiously at his side. "Damn pricks," the albino man muttered under his breath, just loud enough so that Yuuya would hear. "You know what they told me? Said you were being held as a traitor. Fuck that! We saved the goddamned world, didn't we? Let's see them do _that_ in their dresses."

Anji smiled, tempted to remind Chipp that the two of them had been unconscious and brainwashed, respectively, for that entire affair, but he was grateful for the man's support. "It's all right. I should have told them everything when we first got here, like Baiken."

Chipp snorted. "Well, fuck Baiken, too. She's probably still at the temple smoking her goddamned pipe—wouldn't even get off her ass to come help me complain for you. That's cold right there, you know. Seeing as she's the one that tipped them off to you."

"When you say it like that, it makes me sound guilty," Anji replied with a quiet chuckle. "Besides…they would have found out. I'm not angry with her for telling them."

"Wha? Fuck, man, then you're way far gone."

Yuuya walked with them back to the temple, and Anji couldn't help but smile when he saw Wakami waiting for them anxiously at the gate. She greeted them happily and gave her brother a disapproving frown, who returned it with a casual shrug. "Remember," Yuuya said pointedly as he slipped his arms into his coat. "You're not to leave this temple. For your…safety."

"Of course. My safety." Anji frowned as they all watched the man leave, and at last turned in toward the temple. "Thanks for waiting for me, Wakami," he said with a grateful smile. "I'm all right."

"I'll make us some lunch," she offered shyly. "You must be hungry—and you, too, Zanuff-san." Her cheeks colored a little when she looked to him. "You were there all night, too."

Chipp scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess I was. Thanks a lot, Wakami."

The trio returned to the main room of the temple, and Anji felt something in his stomach curl slightly when he saw Baiken reclining on the steps. Just as Chipp predicted, she was dressed in her usual _yukata_ and smoking her pipe easily. She glanced up lazily when they approached. "Anji."

"Baiken." Anji took a seat next to her as Wakami stepped past, toward the kitchen. After a hesitant moment and a scowl Chipp sat down as well. Anji could tell he was expected to say something—something accusatory or hurtful—but the words wouldn't come to him. Instead he merely plucked Baiken's pip from her fingers, and took a long breath for himself.

"Is that it?" Chipp asked incredulously, glancing between them. "Aren't you going to say something? She got you arrested, you know."

Anji shrugged, very conscious of both their stares on him. "Probably isn't the first time," he replied easily. He sighed. "And I've been thinking. Maybe…convincing them to open the Colony wouldn't be such a bad thing."

Baiken glanced at him sharply, and Chipp frowned at them both. "Open the Colony," he echoed. "You know, I still haven't figured out what the hell you're talking about."

"Do you remember how we got here?" Baiken finally spoke up. Her voice was somewhat hoarse from the hangover she must have been suffering.

"Well, yeah." Chipp pursed his lips as he recalled. "We came over that weird bridge." He indicated the huge statue of a man on the horizon, and the long suspension bridge it held which terminated abruptly at the top of its curve. "So?"

"When we went over that bridge, we went through…well, a rift in space," Anji took up the explanation. "We're not in the normal world right now—this Colony was created through magic, in a pocket of space. Kind of like another dimension. That's why only certain people can come in and out, and why we're protected from the outside world."

"Shit, really?" Chipp scratched his head thoughtfully. "Like…the outer dimensional prisons?"

Baiken snorted. "Yes. Like the prisons."

They both glanced to her, but before Anji could protest she continued. "We may be supposedly 'safe' here, but we're also cut off from the rest of the world. If the Bureau wanted, it could destroy us all in an instant—everything here, without any effort at all." She looked abruptly to Chipp. "Do you know how old Wakami is?"

"Wakami? Um…no, but…." Chipp blushed a little. "I thought, maybe…nineteen?"

"She looks it, doesn't she?" She retrieved her pipe. "But people in the Colony age differently—slower than outside, to preserve the Japanese race as long as possible. It's as if the magic that created the Colony taps into a person's natural longevity and lengthens it, with the help of a person's Ki. Wakami is at least in her thirties, if I remember. Her brother is twice that." She took a breath on her pipe. "And their father has been around since the beginning of the Colony."

"But that's over a hundred years!" Chipp protested. He turned his wide, disbelieving gaze on Anji. "What about you?"

Anji smiled thinly. "Forty-two next month."

"Damn! That girly-looking guy is older than you? You're _forty?_ Chipp leaned forward to see Baiken. "And you?"

Anji glanced to her as well—he himself had never gotten an answer out of her, though he knew she had to have been a great deal older than him. But she only puffed on her pipe, seeming to have no intention of giving them a number. "Old enough," she replied at last.

Anji smiled slightly to hide his disappointment. "Now, Chipp," he said, "you know it's not polite to ask a woman her age."

"She brought it up," he muttered, crossing his arms. "What's the big deal?"

"The point is, the Colony has been away from the world for a long time," Baiken resumed. "Its people are weak. They don't care about the truth, or about danger. They're fools. Which is why Anji and I left here in the first place."

She looked to him pointedly, and Anji found he couldn't deny it. The Colony had always been home to him, and he loved it and its people dearly, but he, like Baiken, had always been aware of its suffocating confines. Unlike his peers he longed for the truth—truth they would never reach locked away as they were now.

Anji sighed softly, just as Wakami returned with a hastily prepared lunch for them. "You're right," he said, softly. "Slayer was right." He lifted his head. "It's time we started to see the real world. All of us."

Yuuya chewed idly on the end of his pipe as he watched his father's slow pacing. He felt fortunate that he had not inherited his father's tendency toward the habit; the rhythmic tapping of his feet against the _tatami_ was vaguely irritating in its consistency. Yuuya himself was reclined easily in the corner. All this debate seemed a waste of time, with the council waiting, and him already knowing what conclusion his father would reach. He blew a slow ring of smoke. "Father."

Murase's eyes snapped to him, though he did not halt his pacing. "Yes?"

"We both already know your decision," Yuuya told him easily. "So you might as well just tell the council."

Murase sighed heavily. "It's not that simple," he muttered with a shake of his head. "Even if we convince the United Nations, we'll have to rebuild the entire Colony from scratch on poisoned land. And if that man is alive, we'll be completely vulnerable to attack. The risk is—"

"Father. Why do you always stall like that?"

Murase turned to glare at him, though Yuuya was already considering himself victorious in that he had forced the man to stop his pacing. The man smiled thinly. "I'm old. I'm entitled to take my time." He crossed his arms. "And just because you happen to be fond of that woman doesn't mean you should agree with her so much."

Yuuya rolled his eyes. "Are you just incapable of admitting that she's right?" he countered. "Just because you don't like her doesn't mean you should disagree with her so much."

Murase frowned at him, but his son was already winning him over. "If I send a delegation to Paris, I'll expect you to lead it, you know."

"Why do you think I'm all for it?" Yuuya chuckled as he pushed to his feet. "Maybe I want to see the world, too."

Murase was silent a moment—looking as if he might return to his pacing—and then sighed again, drawing a hand over his face. "Very well," he said at last. "We will alert the Council, and then the populace to gather their approval. And then you will lead a delegation to Paris to vie for a seat among the United Nations." He turned toward the Council room where his peers awaited him. "The Colony will be opened—we will rebuild Japan."

Yuuya's lip curled as he followed his father. "That's more like it."

When Venom awoke, he was fairly certain he had never suffered so awful a headache in his life—he felt as if his entire body were throbbing, making him wince when he tried to open his eyes to a well-lit room. Despite this, the agony in his skull was not the greatest of his concerns. As soon as he started to sit up his stomach twisted nauseously. Clapping a hand over his mouth to stall himself he stumbled hastily toward the hotel bathroom.

"Whoa, whoa—" Someone followed him in, and Venom was too distracted by his discomfort to be alarmed by the unexpected company. As he dropped before the toilet a pair of hands touched his face, drawing his hair back as he finally retched.

Behind him, the stranger chuckled. "Long hair and booze don't mix well, do they?"

Venom coughed weakly, but was forced to pause his questioning for another bout of vomiting. When finally it seemed his stomach was empty he leaned back on his heels. "Who are you?" he croaked.

"You don't remember?" The man offered him a glass of water, which he quickly accepted to clean his mouth with. "I'm Axl. We shared drinks last night. Ring a bell?"

"Oh…." Venom grimaced, hunting up a towel to use to wipe his face. Slowly, it came back to him—the strange pair of Axls, the bar… He rubbed at his throbbing temples. "Yes, I remember."

"Well, good." Axl tugged the handkerchief off his head, using it to tie Venom's hair back. "Can't hold your liquor, can you? I warned you about that Vodka. When you're up to it you should drink some of this French tea stuff the maid brought up—it does wonders."

Venom frowned in alarm as he pushed carefully to his feet. "Maid?" To think that someone might have seen him… He ran a hand over his hair self-consciously.

"Don't worry, she didn't recognize you or nothing," Axl assured, having easily read the concern on his face. He wandered back into the main room. "Come have a drink."

Though Venom's stomach threatened to rebel again at the mere thought of consumption, he flushed the toilet and followed Axl back into the room. He took a seat on the bed edge as he continued to rub his temples. "I don't drink often," he confessed. He wished he would have remembered as much while they were still in the bar.

"That's obvious," Axl chuckled. He poured Venom a cup of tea and insisted he drink it. "But we had a good time, right?"

"I suppose." Venom only took small sips of the drink, though he found the warm smell really was helping to calm his stomach. But the settling of that uncertainty allowed him to realize how uncomfortable he felt with his full face exposed, he was quick to undo the handkerchief Axl had offered him. The brush of hair over his face was more of a comfort than he would ever admit. "What time is it?"

"Almost two in the afternoon," Axl replied, sipping his own tea. "You were starting to worry me—I thought I'd have to pay for another night."

He chuckled good naturedly, but Venom couldn't help but frown as he watched the man through his hair. He was still baffled as to why a man like this would desire his company. Though by now he had given up his suspicions of the man as a police spy, that left him even more clueless as to his motives.

"Why?" Venom asked abruptly, even realizing he had asked this question before with unsatisfactory results. "Why are you taking care of me?"

"Am I?" Axl shrugged carelessly. "Sympathy. I was pretty far gone this morning, too, you know, and no one likes puking in their hair."

"I don't mean just that," Venom persisted. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much, but he was determined to know. "Sharing drinks, this room…I'm a wanted criminal."

Axl shrugged again, his eyes slipping away as if suddenly uncomfortable. "It's not like an assassin has any reason to go after me, is there?" he said. "Besides…it's not so bad. Not having to spend the holiday alone."

Venom frowned sharply at that. He had spent several holidays alone, and not given them a second thought. Even now it seemed overrated; if spending the evening with company meant a night of confusion and a raging hangover in the morning, he suspected he would be perfectly happy to spend the next several holidays in solitude.

Before Venom could say as much there was a knock on the door, and Axl bounded eagerly to his feet to answer. "I bet that's lunch," the blonde said happily. "I know it's kind of late for that, but you'll feel better after you eat, and I'm starved. I hope you like soup."

Venom turned away as the door was opened, still deep in thought as Axl's flirting with the young maid continued on the edge of his perception. He reasoned that someone in his situation should have been pleased to be invited to drinks on the night of a celebration. To not awake alone in a cheap motel but with company, with food waiting. But these things only made his mood darken mysteriously, and he couldn't bring himself to be grateful.

Axl thanked the maid, and Venom couldn't help but glance up curiously. He caught a glimpse of the young woman's face—and, just beyond her, a tall woman passed down the hall. She was a soft-featured brunette with wide, dark eyes, and as she turned up her scarf Venom just barely saw a pair of small scars at the base of her neck.


	6. Chapter 5

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 5

Deep underground, a voice was echoing in the dark. A quiet whimper that echoed against the solid concrete around him. He was familiar with that voice, and he twisted on the thin spring mattress, craning his head back. "Why are you crying?" he whispered.

The whimpering stopped, and when he lowered his hand alongside the bed a cold nose pressed against the inside of his palm. He smiled, and turned his hand slightly to stroke the animal's long head and behind its ears. "Was it you?" he asked softly. "I'm sorry. We might have been able to leave last time and I…I messed it up again. Can you be patient a little while longer?"

The animal whined piteously, but when he gave it a tug, it leapt obediently up onto the bed with him. "I'm sorry," he said again. "Just a while longer. Okay?" When it finally settled down next to him he smiled, wrapping his arms around its thick neck. He sighed. "Just…a little longer…."

Ky took in a deep breath as he finished with the fastenings of his uniform—though he was grateful to Rosaline for having cleaned it for him, his shoulders were already complaining from having to bear the added weight of his full cloak once again. He stretched and tried to find a posture that would put the least amount of pressure against them. "Bridget? Are you ready?"

"Yup!" Bridget bounced over to him, already wrapped up in his fur-lined white winter coat. He tugged the collar up happily against his cheeks. "We get to take a carriage, right?"

"Yes, it's already waiting." Ky reached for the door, but before he could open it glanced back, and was surprised to see Testament clad in his own coat as well. "Testament?"

"I'll walk you out," Testament said evenly as he finished doing up the buttons. "Maybe have a look around."

Ky frowned. Though it was true most every officer in the city would be at the Memorial, he didn't like the idea of Testament wandering Paris alone, where any number of people might recognize him… But he still felt guilty about having to leave him behind, and so wasn't in much of a mood to deny him anything. "All right. You'll be careful, won't you?"

"Of course."

The trio moved outside together, where the carriage was indeed waiting for them. Ky viewed it with a slight sense of dread, but when Bridget moved to his side it calmed him somewhat. He turned back to Testament once more. "I'm sorry," he offered sincerely. "The memorial will take several hours, but you're welcome to anything in the house." He handed over his spare key.

"I'll be fine," Testament assured again as he pocketed the key. His eyes were vaguely dim that afternoon, and though Ky would have liked to offer some other apology, the Gear turned to start down the sidewalk. "See you later."

Ky watched him a moment before spurring himself to move, boarding the carriage that would take them to the memorial with Bridget just behind.

Everything happened so fast, that by the time Axl realized Venom had even moved he was already thrust against the doorframe, the maid's meal cart crashing to the ground with a spectacular ruckus. "Hey—" He struggled to right himself and nearly tripped over the maid herself in the process. He finally stumbled out into the hall only to see Venom disappear around the corner.

"What the hell…." Axl shifted anxiously on his feet, baffled and indecisive. Whatever reason Venom had for bolting off like that he really had no business doing so in his condition. The only explanation Axl could come up with was that the assassin had somehow spotted his intended target, the man he had mentioned the night before….

Axl gulped, bending down quickly to help the maid to her feet. "I'm really sorry," he apologized briskly before darting back into the room. Venom had left his case beside the bed and, most likely, whatever weapon he might usually carry. Axl snatched up his own travel bag and leapt into the hall once more to give chase. "I'm sorry!" he called again to the maid, who was shouting after him in French. "I'll be back—I'll pay for all that!"

Axl burst out of the inn at top speed, but once he was on the street he was suddenly at a loss—Venom was nowhere in sight. Cursing, he picked a direction and started running. "Axl, what are you doing?" he hissed under his breath as he went. "This is so none of your business…." But he only pushed himself faster, determined to catch up.

Venom ground his teeth in frustration as he pushed his way through another group of careless citizens. The cleaning crews were still working hard to clear the streets of the evidence of last night's celebrations, and all around people were just starting to move about themselves—nursing hangovers as severe as his own. It made them slow and difficult to maneuver around. Further down the street he could still see the woman—Slayer's woman—walking easily along the sidewalk. Just when he thought he was catching up he would lose sight of her for a moment among the crowds, only to spot her again several blocks away. It didn't help that his head was throbbing worse than ever, threatening the return of his nausea. Breathing hard, he continued his chase.

A man stepped abruptly in front of him, and Venom's momentum carried him right into him. The pair was sent tumbling in a heap of green and white fabric. Stunned by the unexpected impact Venom was slow to react, but when he finally lifted his gaze he was met with the cross-shaped front of a Holy Order uniform. Gasping, he scrambled to his feet once more.

"Hey, you." The man grabbed at his arm, and it took all his strength to wrench out of his steely grip—Venom nearly fell over again with the effort. By then it was too late. As he tried to regain his speed he could hear the man shouting behind him, and was certain his own name was in there somewhere. He had been recognized. Several pairs of hands snatched at his limbs and clothing but he ripped free, gaze unwavering from the form of the woman several stores ahead of him.

Venom stumbled, losing track of the woman once again for barely an instant. The chime of a store entrance to his left caught him, though, and without thinking he darted inside. His appearance was accompanied by several startled gasps from the customers inside; it appeared to be a small restaurant of some sort, with expensive drapes and finely dressed patrons. Gasping for breath, Venom scanned the tables for his quarry.

He was being a fool. Even if the woman he was chasing was indeed the one he had seen accompanying Slayer on a few occasions, he had no idea if she would be able to lead him to the creature. What he would do once he reached him. How he would fight when…he was just now coming to realize he had left his weapon in the inn.

His concerns were forgotten a moment later when he caught sight of a pair of red high-heeled shoes moving up a small staircase to his right. Venom pursued, knocking a waiter out of the way in the process. Gripping the rail for stability he charged up the carpeted stairs to the second floor, through a pair of elegant glass doors and into a decorated smoking room.

Several heads lifted; more gentlemen and their trophy companions, so it seemed, gauging him with disdain. This time Venom was easily able to locate the woman. She was slipping gracefully out of her coat with the help of a tall, bearded man in a charcoal suit.

Venom steadied himself against the doorframe, his breath heavy as he tried to regain himself. "Slayer…."

Slayer smiled thinly, granting Sharon a small kiss on the cheek before turning to meet his guest. "Ah, Venom. So you received my invitation."

The surrounding men and woman murmured to themselves at the mention of the assassin's name; Slayer lifted a hand to gather their attention. "My friends, I'm sorry," he apologized grandly. "But would you mind terribly leaving us alone for a bit? This young man and I have business to discuss."

Venom glanced at the men and women only briefly as they slipped past him to the stairs, not moving quite as fast he thought they should have. When the last woman passed she flashed him a grin, showing off polished fangs.

Venom stiffened. "Vampires…?"

"Surely you didn't think I was the last, did you?" Slayer chuckled. He touched Sharon's back, and she nodded, folding her coat over her arm as she turned toward a door at the back of the room. "But please, pay them no mind. We were just celebrating the season together."

Venom pushed away from the doorframe. He still felt unsteady with his head pounding as it was, but he didn't want Slayer to see that. "You brought me here," he hissed. "Why?"

"Isn't it what you wanted?" Slayer straightened his shirt and tie daintily. "You've followed me over most of Europe, being quite the bother. I really have no favors left to offer you."

"Favors?" Venom spat, stalking toward him. "How dare you—"

Slayer moved faster than Venom could follow, planting the heel of his shoe firmly in Venom's unguarded stomach. The assassin stumbled backwards with barely more than a whimper and dropped ungracefully to his knees. Already aching and nauseous he couldn't help the sudden lurching of his gut; he vomited tea and bile weakly on the lush carpet.

"You're not so difficult to understand, you know," Slayer drawled as he moved slowly away from him. "A man like you was never up to the task of ruling my Guild. All you've ever wanted was its ruin."

"That's…" Venom coughed hoarsely as a chill spread through his limbs, hugging his bruised midsection. "That's not true…!"

"And that's just what I've given you, isn't it? Now your obligations to your master are complete. Save one, maybe."

Venom lifted his head, and there his heart skipped and nearly stopped. The form of a man was stalking clumsily through the doorway Sharon had exited a moment ago. His steps were halting and heavy, dark clothing tattered and long hair a dull, tangled mess around his pale face. He stopped just beside Slayer with a shudder.

Venom's breath came shallowly as he struggled upright. "Lord Zato…."

The form shifted—rather, its shadow did, sliding up the man's body to curl around his shoulders and neck. From the dark mass protruded a pair of gleaming eyes. "You did well, Nightwalker," it hissed its begrudging approval.

Slayer's lip curled. "Naturally. Good luck with him." He turned to leave.

Venom stared between the pair, stunned and bewildered. "You're…what's going on?"

"You're annoying," Slayer replied easily, not bothering to turn back. "So I arranged to have you dealt with." He chuckled. "If you kill each other the very last of the Guild will be dissolved. It'll save me the trouble."

"Don't worry about me, Slayer," the beast Eddie snarled, the black shape of its head splitting in a toothy grin. "We'll be seeing each other soon enough, to settle our own score."

Slayer chuckled again. "Indeed." He waved briefly over his shoulder and disappeared through the exit.

Venom gulped, grimacing at the sour taste in his mouth as he retreated several steps. "Lord Zato…." The man didn't look any different than when Venom had seem him last, several months ago; his colorless face, though turned toward him, bore no expression. Abruptly Venom's fists tightened, and he planted his feet as he faced the creature. "Eddie. You still dare disgrace my master."

Eddie laughed; it was a deep, horrifying sound, like jaws through bone. "This pitiful corpse?" A thin tendril of shadow curled around Zato-1's chin to turn the head back and forth. "He's been dead some time, you know. He's beginning to reek."

"Damn you!" Venom charged, ignoring his lack of weapon as he closed with his enemy. Despite Zato-1's seeming immobility the corpse abruptly twisted as he approached, attacking in a series of swift kicks that Venom barely avoided. Just when Venom thought he'd found an opening the shadow perched on Zato-1's shoulders struck as well. Though he blocked he was thrown heavily backwards by the impact of cold flesh against his forearms—into one of the sitting room's cushioned chairs. He tumbled along with the furniture to the ground.

"I've been looking for you, Venom," Eddie drawled. Slowly his form began to stretch and slide over Zato-1's corpse, engulfing and covering it until only shadow skin and gleaming red eyes remained. "To finally finish you."

"Stop!" From the glass door entrance appeared several men from the lower floor, one of which the Holy Order veteran Venom had plowed into on the street. He held his sword at ready. "You both are—"

"Leave us!" Eddie snatched up the nearest chair, flinging it into heavily into the group. They scattered but one of the men was caught full in the chest and sent reeling. A moment later Eddie himself was upon them with claws bared. Venom turned away, trying not to listen to the cries of the men as the heavy odor of blood filled the room. He grabbed for the first weapon he could find: a bottle of wine that he broke against the edge of a table.

"Pathetic," Eddie growled, advancing on the last man still on his feet—the Holy Order veteran, already bleeding from a wound across his forehead. The rest of the men that had followed him up were sprawled across the ground, but whether they were living or dead Venom didn't bother to check. As he watched Eddie snatched the officer by the throat, flinging him through the glass doors and onto the staircase.

Just as the veteran tumbled out of view down the stairs Venom attacked. He drove the jagged glass with all his strength into Eddie's side, grimacing at the dulled impact it sent up the length of his arm. Eddie bellowed and nearly tore Venom's throat with a swipe of his claws. But all Venom could think of was the creature's destruction, and he drew his arm back to stab again.

Eddie spun, the back of his clawed hand catching Venom in the jaw and sending him again to the floor. "Miserable wretch," he snarled. The shadows rippled and stretched to cover the hole Venom had carved, unaffected. Venom swung the bottle again as clawed hands reached toward him, succeeding in slicing another gash across Eddie's palm only to watch it seal over again. "Do you really think you can defeat me?"

"Goddamn monster," Venom spat, grabbing at the nearest chair to help him upright. "I swore I'd kill you."

Eddie snorted. "I'm waiting."

With a vengeful cry Venom lunged, this time aiming his jagged glass for Eddie's throat. The gleaming red irises were, for that instant, the center of his world, and as his weapon neared its mark everything else seemed to fade at the edges. And it was then, just inches from his target, when he felt sharpened claws slide into his midsection.

Axl was just giving up hope of finding his lost roommate when he came upon the commotion outside a small, overpriced French bistro several blocks down from the motel. A group of men and women had gathered in the street, staring up in confusion at the second floor windows. Trying to regain his breath after his long run he managed to gasp to a woman next to him, "What's going on?"

"There's a criminal up on the second floor," she replied, clasping her coat closed against her chest. "Some officers went up after him, but…."

"A criminal?" Axl glanced up at the window and heard a man's pained voice ring down—the crowd cringed away. "Damnit…" As Axl slipped through the group of people and toward the door he jerked his travel bag in front of him.

Venom's fingers went numb around the neck of the bottle. He couldn't feel the injury—only the blood that slid, thick and warm, down his abdomen. The thought that the wound was certainly lethal didn't deter him. With a choked growl he continued the arch of his weapon, driving it deep into swirling shadow.

As soon as the blade caught, however, Venom was deafened by an enraged bellow against his ear; the claws still imbedded in his torso twisted and thrust him harshly away. Feeling rushed abruptly back into his body when he fell—he cried out brokenly, a searing pain striking all through his torso and burning his lungs. Curled weakly on his side his fingers probed the outlines of four circular claw stabs just below his left ribs. He couldn't breathe, and in a panic he tried to cover the wound.

"You…pathetic…." Venom couldn't see, with his hair sticking to his sweat-dampened face, but he heard Eddie stumble away, hissing curses. Something thick and wet smacked sickeningly against the carpet nearby. "I'll tear your throat out!"

Venom gagged weakly on the floor as a pair of hands—human hands—curled around his throat. He tried to push them away but his body was already growing cold, and he couldn't put any strength into his struggles. He was forced roughly onto his back, the parting of his hair over his face allowing him a full look of his attacker. The shadow had fallen away to reveal Zato-1's pale visage once more; a chunk of flesh had been torn from his neck but the wound did not bleed.

"Die…" Zato-1's lips were parted as his hands tightened around Venom's throat, though it was not his voice that echoed through them. "It's what you want."

Venom fought to keep his eyes open. Even in death Zato-'s face hadn't changed. He still bore the same firm lines in his jaw, the stern curve of his lips. Venom couldn't lift his hand or speak his master's name but if he were to die, at least he could do so by Zato-1's own hands. It was already so cold…

Axl grimaced as he darted around the bodies of the fallen officers and into the smoking room. By then he had jerked his pair of short scythes out of his bag, and as soon as he took in the situation he let one fly. "Get off him!"

The blonde that had been choking Venom released his victim and fell back to avoid the swinging blade. Axl's weapon snapped obediently back into his hand. "Hey, you're…"

Zato-1 straightened, and to Axl's shock turned to bolt for the window. As he ran his body was covered in melting shadows, flaring out behind him to form a pair of leathery wings. Axl didn't even attempt to give chase; amidst a shattering of glass the creature was gone, inciting a few screams from the crowd below as it flew awkwardly away from the scene.

Axl sighed heavily in relief. "Damn, that's crazy." He quickly sobered when he turned to check on Venom's condition. The assassin was pale and covered in cold sweat, dark blood flowing freely from his injured side. With a curse Axl knelt beside him and covered the wound. The blood seeped between his fingers despite his best efforts. The feel of it pulsing against him was sickening. "Venom! Can you hear me?"

Venom wheezed, turning his head to let the blood dribble from his mouth. "I'm…still alive?" he croaked.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're alive…." Axl glanced around; the smell of blood in the room was so thick it was making him ill. But there weren't any tablecloths or other material nearby that he could use to bandage the wounds with. "There are more officers coming. Do you think you can—"

"Officers?" Venom shuddered, which may have been the closest to laughter he could manage. "Then…I am dead."

Axl froze, drawing his gaze back to the man. It occurred to him only then how the scene would appear: three downed officers and an infamous Assassin, already on the brink of death. Even if an officer gave a thought to saving the man's life he would only be executed anyway. The thought sent a cold shiver through Axl's blood-warmed hands. "Shit…shit, Venom." He wasn't one prone to panic but this situation was far beyond anything he'd imagined in inviting Venom to a drink.

Abruptly Axl's resolve hardened, and with a deep breath he drew Venom's arm up around his neck. "Try to hold onto me. We've gotta go." He began to lift them both to their feet.

Venom cried out softly in pain as his injury was stretched by the movement. But Axl didn't pause, forcing him to get his feet under him. "Stop it," he whispered as he sagged against him. "Just leave me…"

"Not a chance." Axl hefted the weight against him, grimacing as the blood began to soak into his jeans as well. He drew Venom's hand over the wound. "Just keep that covered, eh? We'll…we'll find a doctor. You'll be all right…" He began to half assist, half carry Venom to the back exit—it looked as if it were for the waitresses and busboys, and it might allow them a way out other than the excited front door. "You can't just die, here, right? Don't you have…someone waiting for you? Someone you want to see again?"

Venom chuckled wetly. "I did."

"See? Then come on—we'll get you fixed up, and—"

"That creature just now." Venom's voice tipped with bitter humor. "That was him."

Axl cringed, and struggled without success for some kind of response. "Venom…just hold on," he replied instead, continuing away from the stained carpet. "Okay? I'll…jeez, I'll think of something."

Venom coughed weakly, but he managed to get his feet firmly beneath him. With a soft groan he did his best to keep up with Axl's stumbling.

Testament hadn't expected to really enjoy his time wandering the city, and in that regard had not been disappointed. The city was, for the most part, rather quiet; everyone who wasn't already heading for the memorial was recovering from the celebrations the night before. He passed more sanitation crews than anything else. It wasn't even that difficult to avoid being noticed. But whenever he spotted a familiar uniform among the slow crowd something in him chilled, and he ducked quickly out of sight. It was that, combined with his exchange with Ky several hours previous, which had been darkening his mood during his short outing.

He understood Ky well enough by now—or at least imagined he did—to not be offended by their strange parting earlier. To think that even after their experiences together he could be easily accepted by the other, and visa-versa, was close to absurdity. At present, however, hiding in an alley from the gathering crowd, he couldn't help but be reminded of their differing circumstances. There were officers scattered among the people clumped anxiously outside the restaurant entrance he'd happened upon, and Testament knew what kind of reception he would receive, should he reveal himself. He wondered what Ky might do in his defense, were he discovered here as a Gear in the center of Paris. If he might be able, or willing, to do anything at all.

A small service door to Testament's left creaked open, and he blinked in surprise as a pair of bloodied figures tumbled out into the alley.

Axl cursed as he pitched forward; he hadn't expected the step proceeding their escape, and the sudden catch on his foot sent him and his charge careening into the open alley. The sound of Venom suppressing a cry somewhere to his left made him wince in sympathy. "Sorry—shitty rubbish." He pushed in frustration against the garbage that had been left outside the door and struggled to his feet. "Are you—"

Axl's heart skipped almost painfully when he lifted his eyes to find they were not alone in the alley; and more importantly, that their company was as unfortunate as he was recognizable. Kneeling beside the fallen Venom was the Gear captain himself, clothed in familiar black, his eyes downcast and attentive. As Axl gasped after his lost breath Testament reached out, pressing the flat of his hand against Venom's open wounds. The assassin gave a sharp gasp of pain.

"H…Hey…!" Axl scraped at his belt only to realize he'd left his weapons thoughtlessly behind. He curled his fist, preparing to use his fire. "Leave him alone."

He advanced on the Gear, sure that he'd gone mad for what he was about to attempt. Long before he could fully form the magic Testament was on his feet, and a punch he never saw sent him slamming hard against the alley wall. With his concentration faltering the fire quickly extinguished from his hand.

"Don't," Testament warned him lowly, wiping the blood from his hands across his coat. "There are officers in the street—they'll hear you."

Axl groaned softly as he pushed away from the wall. It took him a moment to register what Testament had just said and what his words implied. "What?" He looked down to Venom, shocked to see the flow of blood from his wounds had ceased, even if the man were still pale and breathing shallowly. "You…did you just—"

"If you want him to live, I suggest you find a healer," Testament interrupted him coolly. "And a quiet one, at that. You do realize who this man is?"

"He's…." There were shouts from the windows above—it seemed that someone had finally ventured into the second floor and discovered the bodies. Axl shifted his weight back and forth anxiously. "Why aren't you killing us?" he asked bluntly. If his senses really had left him there was no sense in holding back. "You're a Gear."

Testament's eyes narrowed, and Axl was sure he was about to be squished like a small insect, but then the Gear calmly replied, "The war is over. What need have I to kill humans?"

Axl bit his lip. But there was no time to decide, and he was out of options. "Take him," he said suddenly, already crouching down next to Venom. By now Venom was barely conscious, and made only quiet protests as he was propped up. "I'll hold them off—take him to a doctor. There's got to be at least one crooked bloke that'll take him in."

Testament frowned at him. "Me? Why should I?"

"You already wasted your time healing him, didn't you?" Axl shot back, though there was a note of desperation in his voice. He pulled Venom upright once more and thrust him against Testament's chest; the Gear supported him instinctually. "Be a sport, eh? You don't want to see the police get him, either, right?"

Testament's expression twisted, and again Axl wondered if it was time to begin his life flashback, but then he only lowered his head slightly in acknowledgement. With a sigh he hefted Venom into his arms and turned toward the rear of the alley. "Only as far as a healer," he agreed.

"That's the outlaw spirit." Axl smiled grimly as he watched the Gear carry his injured companion to the wall at the alley's end—and clear it in a single, powerful leap. Though he was already berating himself for trusting the mercy of a Gear, he had to admit Venom could not have found a more capable caretaker. Even if the end Testament merely killed him…it was the fate that would have awaited him otherwise. Guiltily, Axl knew that he would not have chosen to place Venom's life over his own, had the officers caught up to them together.

"Maybe I'll be lucky," Axl thought aloud, smiling to himself as footfalls thundered toward the exit he and Venom had used. "And timeslip when it's actually convenient…."

The door banged open with a flourish as several officers appeared in the alley. Axl sheepishly lifted his hands in surrender. "Or not. Y'got me."


	7. Chapter 6

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

I'm using weird scene markers in hopes of preventing them from disappearing. (usually hates little star thingies)

Sorry the updates have been so slow, I'll try to be better ;;;

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 6

Bridget had done his best to prepare himself for all the Memorial would entail that evening. His brother had mentioned it to him the night before, having attended the previous year, warning him of the kind of atmosphere he could expect to encounter. All the same, Bridget felt a chill as he stepped out of the carriage behind Ky, taking in the scenery for the first time.

The services were held every year at the Ranslord Memorial Cemetery, nearly an hour's ride outside Paris in a stretch of open country. It was meant to be the burial ground for all those Holy Order officers that had died in the war, though in reality barely half called it their resting place; the war had taken place over far too many landscapes for all bodies to be recovered. But in the courtyard in front of the cemetery there was a long marble stone bearing the name of each passed officer. It stretched on much longer than Bridget thought it ought to.

The cemetery itself was circular, closed in on all sides with four meter tall, polished stone walls. Various Holy Order symbols dotted its perimeter, but what caught Bridget's notice first was the trio of marble statues that stood within the wide, arched entrance. Each was a man, standing close to each other and depicted in the Holy Order uniform. The one of the left was Ky.

Bridget started to point, then thought better as he watched all the people beginning to move through the entrance gates. "Um…Ky?" He gave the man's sleeve a tug. "That's you up there, right?"

Ky smiled faintly as they passed the statues. Though his steps were light his face bore a grim expression. "Jean Ranslord and Kliff Underson are the others," he explained. "Former captains of the Holy Order."

"Ahh." Bridget was trying to think of some comment to make when they finally entered the cemetery itself, and his voice left him.

The tombstones were simple; each a modest stone cross, carved with names and birthdays. There were rows and rows of them, so precise and cold and white with fresh snow that it was eerie. Worse were the crowds of silent people moving among them. Many of them wore variations of the Holy Order uniform of different colors and cuts, their heads bowed in mourning, some accompanied by their family and peers. All manner of pale flowers were spread out among the graves and tombstones. Every so often Bridget caught the sound of a quiet sob among the gathered, and more than one whispered prayer.

"Bridget," Ky touched his shoulder, and he jumped, realizing that he had been holding his breath. "Is there anyone here you know?" Ky asked softly.

Bridget gulped, feeling his chest tighten a little. "I think…a cousin," he said in nearly a whisper. The quiet atmosphere was affecting him. "On my father's side…." He shivered. "I wouldn't know where to look."

"It's all right. If you pray for them here, they'll hear you." Ky took a step forward. "There are a few people I have to see. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

Bridget licked his lips as he considered, and finally decided that he didn't want to bother Ky, if he preferred to be alone. "Don't worry about me—I'll be fine. Go ahead."

"I'll come find you later," Ky assured, and with that joined in the slowly moving crowd.

Bridget stood still for a while, just watching as Ky approached a small group of uniformed men. They greeted him quietly, sharing handshakes and, in the case of one man, a brief embrace. It was strange to witness the soft, solemn intimacy among the former soldiers. Around them, even, others stopped to watch Ky, offering respectful bows and hushed words when they caught his eye. Everyone there looked up to and mourned with him. Bridget couldn't even imagine what kind of hardships had drawn them together like that.

"Bridget."

He turned, and was greatly relieved to see his brother moving toward him. Their father, two, was conversing with a group of elder men nearby. "Brandon…" Bridget hurried to meet him, giving him a quick hug. He wouldn't feel nearly so uneasy with the other boy beside him.

"I thought you'd be here," Brandon said, taking his brother by the arm as they moved inconspicuously away from their father. "You came with Sir Kiske?"

"Yeah." Bridget lowered his eyes. "I thought maybe I could…I dunno, lift his spirits a little or something. But this place is so…" He shivered and didn't finish.

Brandon nodded gravely. "Father and I came to visit cousin Olson's grave. Do you want to stay with us for a while? Until Sir Kiske's finished?"

"Yes. Yes, I'd…." Bridget glanced back at Ky, who was joining the men he'd greeted earlier in kneeling in front of one of the graves. "I want to pay my respects, too."

The Memorial was less of an actual service than it was a time of gathering. There was a small chapel at the far end of the cemetery tended by an aging priest, who in the evening would speak on behalf of the fallen. Ky rarely went to listen. He would spend his time in the cemetery visiting a few particular graves, granting his condolences to the family members if he met them and exchanging brief greetings with his veteran peers. As time dragged on the sky darkened and it began to snow. Whenever Ky clasped his hands in prayer he took a moment to breathe warmth over his chilled fingers and hoped it was not disrespectful of him.

Gradually, the crowds that had come to pay respects began to thin. Soon it was almost entirely the veterans that remained, speaking to each other near the cemetery entrance. They stayed respectfully back as Ky ventured to the memorial's center. He said a prayer before Sir Ranslord's tomb, and from there moved to his final duty of the evening.

Bridget hung back with his brother as he watched Ky lower himself to one knee in front of the thick stone slab. By now he had guessed which each represented; there were three of the larger tombstones present at the memorial center, the third left blank.

"Sir Underson's tombstone," Brandon confirmed beside him. "They say his body is buried somewhere else, but this is his official gravesite." He gave his brother's arm a tug. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Bridget replied distantly. He couldn't take his eyes from Ky's crouched form. Even from so far away he could see the unnatural slouch in Ky's posture, and it made his insides tighten in sympathy. The rest of the men and women still present had their heads bowed in respectful silence as their former leader grieved for his own master. For those long minutes no one spoke, and the only movement was that of slowly falling snowflakes.

Bridget's lips parted. Watching Ky kneeling there alone, eyes closed and hands clasped in humble prayer, something deep and painful rose in his chest. He couldn't help but think that he had never seen anything quite so moving, nor…beautiful.

He slipped his arm out of Brandon's, and before anyone could move to stop him dashed out down the cemetery path. The winter air bit at his lungs but he couldn't help gasping for breath. He slowed just beside Ky, clutching the collar of his coat closed at the neck. "Ky…?"

Ky lifted his hand, moving it subtly over his face. When looked up to Bridget his expression was one of grim ease. "Yes, Bridget?"

He pushed to his feet as Bridget stammered over a reply. "Ky, I…." The boy shifted from foot to foot, but even that movement couldn't coax his throat to relax. "I'm…."

"I'm sorry," Ky said, smiling faintly at him. "For making you wait."

Bridget's breath caught, and all at once he jumped forward, throwing his arms around Ky's waist. "I'm…I'm sorry," he whispered, hugging close with his face pressed against the front of the Holy Order uniform. He had wanted to be strong for Ky, to be waiting and comforting when he needed it. But all coming here had done was prove to Bridget how little he really understood what Ky was going through, and how strongly he wished he did.

Ky draped an arm gently over Bridget's shoulders, drawing his thick cloak around him. "It's all right, Bridget," he murmured. "I understand. I'm glad you came."

He gave Bridget a light squeeze and began to ease him back—Bridget quickly swiped at his eyes to make sure he hadn't shed any tears. "Let's go back. I'm finished here."

Bridget nodded, transferring his grip to Ky's arm so they could make their way to the exit. He kept his head down, fearful that the other officers would look down on him for interrupting their leader. But they didn't look cross with him, and he left Ky's side a moment so they could each say their farewells.

"Thanks for coming, Brandon," Bridget said quietly, giving him a hug. "Let me know before you go back to England, okay?"

"I'm sure we'll meet up again before then," Brandon assured. "Take care."

Bridget and Ky joined each other again as they departed the cemetery together, heading for their carriage. Bridget wanted to say something—felt as if he owed it somehow—but before he could think of something they were approached suddenly by a woman dressed in the uniform of the Global Police.

"Officer Kiske," she said briskly. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but there's been an incident."

Testament cursed softly under his breath as he moved through Paris' back alleys and side streets. It didn't take him long to find himself in a less reputable section of the city—perhaps the "outlaw spirit" guiding him that Axl mentioned—but even then he was somewhat at a loss. With the snow beginning to fall and every door looking as unpromising as the last, he had no idea what he was meant to do with his wounded charge. Understood even less how he had come to be in such a position in the first place.

There was no justifying it. Though the circumstances were similar to one he'd face several months earlier this time he had no reasonable motive for helping the injured man: no debts to repay, not even pity. The man he carried was a murderer and criminal who, unlike Testament, must have been a willing participant in all his crimes. Even more so he was the man Ky himself had been desperately seeking, sacrificing his men across the globe to bring to justice. And he was…helping him. In all likelihood saving another human life.

Something tugged at his coat—which was now, to Testament's dismay, stained with blood—and he glanced down, surprised to see it was Venom trying to gain his attention. The man's eyes were closed but he appeared conscious. "Rue Beaubourg," he whispered hoarsely. "There's…a small white house…on the corner."

Testament glanced about in search of a street sign—he'd never been in Paris before, and had no idea exactly where they were anymore. "This is West Vermillion. What's on Beaubourg?"

"Go south from here. The…white house…."

Testament frowned down at him, wishing Venom would answer before he set off again. But it looked as if he were once more unconscious. With a quiet sigh he continued south, hefting Venom's weight a little against his chest. The assassin murmured quietly in pain.

Humans…certainly were fragile things.

Testament finally reached the white corner house on Rue Beaubourg; it was more like a shack, with a strange symbol painted on the front door that he didn't recognize. Thankfully the streets were relatively clear, but he still moved around the back. He wasn't all that surprised to find another entrance, bearing the same sign.

"This had better be a healer," Testament muttered as he knocked on the door with the toe of his boot. A few brief moments later the door was pulled open, and when he saw who it was he wished he'd never come at all.

Ky listened to the report as calmly and patiently as he could on the carriage ride back to the city. Venom was in Paris. The news was almost too startling and nonsensical to believe, and he had the officer repeat her statements to him several times before he was sure of their validity. A tall, dark-skinned man with white hair that covered his face and bore a blue eye design, had been spotted running through the streets. He had disappeared into a restaurant and killed several police officers and badly injured one Holy Order veteran. A black, winged creature had emerged. And at the end of it all, all they had to show for it was one blond British man in custody.

"A blond, British man," Ky repeated to himself, frowning as their carriage finally approached the Global Police Headquarters. "And a pair of chained sickles discovered at the scene…."

"You know him?" Bridget asked quietly, having taken in the events without attempting to interrupt.

"Maybe." The carriage stopped, and Ky didn't bother waiting for the attendant to open his door for him—he pushed quickly outside and strode up the short stairs with Bridget and his officer close behind.

They were met quickly at the entrance by another uniformed officer, who repeated the reports to Ky as they moved swiftly through the headquarters towards the basement. "We decided it would be best to keep him in maximum security," the officer explained. "Seeing as he claims to have participated in the Holy Order tournament several years ago."

Ky's eyes narrowed. "I see."

They came off the stairway into a long corridor lined by cell doors, each thick steel that hummed a continuous, low note—the metal was reinforced by magic and nearly impossible to penetrate. Their way was lit by tiny, free-floating lights along the way, and as they started down Ky reached up to pluck one to him, using it to brighten their path.

They had only gone a few feet when a howl came echoing down the hall towards them. Ky didn't flinch, though he felt Bridget jump at least an inch or two and the sudden, eerie cry. He sighed in irritation. "I see our friend is acting up again."

"I'm sorry, sir," the officer said quickly. "He's been…a bit of trouble ever since we brought the British man in. But he's under control."

They came to an intersection; to the right, several police officers were surrounding one of the cells, shouting to each other over the cries of whatever prisoner was inside. Bridget paused to watch, and seeing his distraction Ky patted him on the shoulder. "You don't have to stay," he said. "One of the officers can take you back to my house, or you can wait upstairs. I don't know how long I'll be."

"Oh, I'm fine," Bridget assured brightly. "I'll wait for you around here."

Ky frowned, glancing to the commotion down the hall, but nodded. "Don't get too close," he warned, and turned away so the officer could lead him further down.

By the time Ky was stepping into the well protected prison cell he wasn't surprised to see his suspicious were correct: reclining easily on the low cot was Axl Low, arms folded behind his head and feet kicking casually. He jolted upright once Ky entered. "Ky Kiske!" he declared. "I've been asking for you. These blokes of yours are damn stingy, let me tell you."

"I'm sure."

Ky excused the officer, instructing him to leave them alone though not to venture too far. Once the door was closed behind him Ky moved closer. Already Axl had sobered a little, faced with Ky's serious expression. "You, ah, you look good," the British man attempted with a less confident smile. "Happy Holidays…?"

"I want to know what happened," Ky said lowly, crossing his arms as he faced the man. "Every detail."

Despite Ky's warnings, it was not in Bridget's nature to be cautious. As soon as Ky was out of sight he tiptoed down the hall towards the officers. The cell door they were surrounding was open, and for a moment Bridget caught sight of the young man they were doing their best to subdue—a brown-haired teenager in a prison uniform, who was managing to very effectively twist out of every hold they attempted to put on him. Once or twice Bridget was nearly certain he'd seen his arm twist back through his elbow the wrong way as he struggled.

"Now now," one of the officers was trying to soothe him. "Easy there, kid." He managed to grab a loop on the uniform's back, drawing him toward the cell.

"Kill!" the young man raved, pawing at the hands closing on him. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, saliva flying from his moth as he whipped his head back and forth. "Kill—kill him! _Kill him_!"

The young man twisted at the waist, so far as to be sickening, and swung back into place like a coiled spring. His flailing arms caught two of the guards and sent them flying. In the confusion he threw himself to the ground and tried to crawl away, an officer still clinging to his leg.

Deciding it was suddenly his duty to prevent the boy from escaping, Bridget pounced into the fray with an enthusiastic cry. In a very creative variation on a headlock he sat on the youth's back, trapping the flailing arms behind his knees and locking his ankles behind his head. Even with his mysteriously limber joints the youth couldn't reach anything save Bridget's back, not enough to throw him off. He continued to rage and scream ineffectively.

Bridget grinned; with his very odd pin and one of the officers holding down the criminal's legs, they'd brought him to a halt. "I got him," he said proudly.

The remaining officers stared, baffled and, for some reason, seemingly flustered. Bridget made a face at them. "Aren't you going to knock him out or something? This isn't comfortable."

"Huh…?" A quiet voice drifted up from beneath Bridget's locked ankles just as the body went suddenly still. "Um…hello? I'm sorry, is there…?"

One of the officers sighed, moving around behind Bridget to check on their captive. "Oh, so now you're back to yourself, are you?" he muttered. "Ready to cooperate?"

"Did something happen?" the voice asked meekly. "I'm sorry—did I hurt anyone? I didn't mean to…"

Bridget frowned, but he couldn't see anything from his position. Finally one of the police officers motioned for him to let go, and with a shrug he relaxed his hold and rolled off his captive. He was surprised to see the boy looked suddenly and perfectly calm, despite the drool clinging to his lips and dark circles under his eyes. Baffled, Bridget watched as he was helped to his feet.

"Back in there with you," the officer said, pushing his charge back towards the cell. "And stay quiet—Sir Kiske's busy and doesn't have time for your nonsense."

"But I didn't—" the boy protested, but by then he'd been shoved back in his cell and the door clanged shut behind him. He fell silent as the hum of magic within the metal locks resumed.

By now thoroughly confused, Bridget pushed to his feet and dusted himself off. Already the officers were beginning to move away. "Um, sir?" he asked, stepping to the one who seemed to be most senior. "Can I ask what that was?"

The officer looked him over critically. "You shouldn't be down here, Miss," he said instead. "How'd you get through? This is maximum security."

"I came with Sir Kiske," Bridget replied, puffing himself up a bit. "Miss" indeed. "And I caught him for you, didn't I? You can at least tell me who it is."

The man frowned severely at him, but after a moment snorted. "We don't know who he is. He's insane—goes crazy like that every once in a while. Sir Kiske's been trying to find someone to help him but so far no one knows what's wrong with him. So he's stuck here." Deciding the matter over, the officer began to walk away. "Don't get too close, kid."

Bridget stuck his tongue out at the man's back as he moved on, and immediately hopped "too close" to the cell door. There was only a small opening in it through which he could see anything; the back of the youth's head as he moved toward his cot. Curiosity getting the better of him, Bridget rose up on his toes to see. "Hey."

The youth flinched, glancing back over his shoulder. Bridget couldn't help but giggle a little at the small heart tied to his forehead. "Who are you?" the young blonde asked. "You put up quite a fight."

He flushed in embarrassment. "You…put up quite a headlock," he replied timidly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"Naw, I don't think so."

"Oh, good." The boy stepped closer to the door. "You're not…police, are you?"

"Nope—I'm Bridget, a bounty hunter." Bridget smiled a little—he certainly seemed harmless now. "What's your name?"

"Me? Oh, I'm…Zappa."

Bridget bounced lightly on his toes. "Zappa! I thought so," he laughed. "You were on my bounty list a while back. A lot of people complained about you, you know."

Zappa frowned, looking genuinely distressed. "Yeah…I know. I don't mean to, really! It just…happens sometimes." He shifted back and forth and took another step closer. "You just said you came with Sir Kiske, right?" he asked anxiously. "Will you apologize to him for me? I know he's tried really hard for me, and…" He sighed. "I keep screwing up."

"Oh, sure." Bridget hummed thoughtfully—Zappa sure didn't look like most criminals he'd been around, with his kind face and little pink heart. "So, you just…flip out sometimes?" he asked, by now thoroughly fascinated. He felt bad for Zappa, looking so sad an innocent in his cell like that. "You were saying to kill someone a little while ago. Do you know why?"

Zappa paled. "I was?" His expression grew even more worrisome as he stared at the floor. "I…don't want to kill anyone. All I remember is hearing some officers come down with a new prisoner, and then I woke up with you sitting on me."

Bridget snickered beneath his hand. "Yeah, sorry about that. But I totally stopped you, and no one got hurt, right?"

"Yeah." Finally, Zappa smiled a little. "Yeah, your way's a lot better than theirs."

Bridget snickered again. "Glad to help."

What Axl had to tell him was nothing he hadn't heard already, for the most part, but Ky still made him repeat his story three times over before he was satisfied. Venom and Eddie had fought together, resulting in Eddie fleeing the scene and Venom retreating, injured, through the back. Though Axl wouldn't admit to having aided the former Guild leader, it was pretty apparent from the blood covering him that that had been the case. But Ky believed him when he insisted on not knowing where either criminal had escaped to. Which left him with very little to go on.

Finally, Ky sighed. "I suppose there's no point in detaining you," he said, not without frustration. "You're not a citizen here and I don't have time for that kind of paperwork." He fixed Axl with a firm eye. "But you're sure you've told me everything."

"Yeah, of course," Axl assured. But then his eyes flickered away. "Well…"

"Well what?" Ky prompted impatiently.

"I guess…I really should tell ya," he murmured, half to himself. With a deep breath he faced Ky again. "There was someone else I saw a while ago. He didn't seem dangerous at the time, but it's something you should know." He licked his lips. "There's a Gear in Paris."

Ky stiffened, his blood going cold a moment until he realized that he already knew who Axl must have meant. "Are you sure?" he asked anyway.

"Yeah—clear as day. Same fellow from back a while." Axl scratched the back of his head. "He wasn't rampaging or nothing. But I figure he's still a Gear, right? You should tell your boys to be careful."

Ky glanced away. "I'll do that. In the meantime, you're free to go." He stepped back to the door, giving three taps to alert the guard they were finished. "You can pick up your things from the front desk—I assume the two sickles are yours."

"Yeah, those'd be mine." Axl pushed to his feet with a little grunt, and once the door was opened followed Ky outside. "Thanks a lot, Kiske. I…hope you catch them."

"I will," Ky assured. The pair walked together toward the stairs, and Axl went on as the officer walked on a bit further to reclaim his companion. Bridget bounced away from the door as Ky approached.

"Ky!" Bridget toed at the floor innocently. "Zappa and I were having a chat."

"Were you?" Ky glanced toward the door, but didn't give him any more attention than that. "I'm finished here—let's go."

"Okay." Bridget offered Zappa a wave before hopping to Ky's side, and together they moved to the stairs.

There was still no accounting for it. Testament was sure he had no idea why he was doing this.

After having deposited the wounded assassin at the white corner house, he had left as quickly as possible and headed back towards the city center. Though he had taken care to avoid the scene still surrounding the restaurant, now that the memorial had ended there were Holy Order veterans crawling all over in search of the man who had injured their colleague. At least night was coming fast—it made slipping from shadow to shadow that much easier. And finally, he was in front of the headquarters of the Global Police, feeling quite mad.

Testament had nearly giving up waiting for the man when Axl finally appeared, adjusting a thick travel bag over his back. He was still covered in blood and looking rather nervous—so much so that when Rael gave a squawk from Testament's shoulder he jumped, and spun about. Pale-faced, he knew better than to not investigate, and soon the man and Gear were face to face again in the relative safety of a darkened side alley.

"Ah…were you…waiting for me?" Axl asked hesitantly. He was tense, as if ready to dash away at any moment.

"I'm not going to kill you," Testament told him. He couldn't blame anyone for being terrified of him, but it was still vaguely irritating, especially after his startling generosity earlier that evening. "I'm just here to tell you where your friend ended up."

Axl straightened. "You really helped him? Ah, I mean, he's okay?"

"Sort of." Testament crossed his arms. "A small white house on the corner of Rue Beaubourg. I did what you asked so he's your responsibility now."

"Oh. Right." Axl grinned sheepishly and took a step back. "Um, thanks a lot, pal. I'll go check on him. Right now, even. I owe you. Catch you later—bye!" And with that Axl turned, scampering out of the alley and down the street away from him.

Testament sighed, not that he was surprised. He reached up to stroke Rael's feathers, clearing the snow from them. "There," he murmured. "I've saved another human life. What do you think of that, hm? It's going to become a habit if I'm not careful."

Rael poked him with her beak, and as Testament glanced forward he caught sight of Ky and Bridget leaving the police building. Frowning, the Gear stepped further into the alley and disappeared from view.


	8. Chapter 7

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

Sorry the updates have taken so long. And yes, it's a magical radio XP

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 7

Being under house arrest, Anji was enjoying a drink in his room with his two companions when Wakami bustled inside. She had with her a small crystalline box, the portable version of the large ones that occupied most homes around the Colony. "It's Father," she told them urgently, activating the magic device with a wave of her hand.

The four crowded around, stilling their chatter as the voice of Murase Sousuke echoed through the small object. They listened to his announcement in attentive silence. Anji's eyes were half lidded and vague; he could imagine the men and women all over the colony seated before similar devices, most likely stunned. What he couldn't picture was what their reactions would be. In fact, he was still waiting on his own.

Murase's speech, though clear and to the point, drew on for some time as he explained to his people the reasons behind the decision he and the elders had come to. There was a lot of talk about the pride of their ancestors, the will for freedom, the equality of nations. Of striking out back into the world they deserved. Of displaying courage and fortitude in the face of disaster. And ironically, considering the season they were in, the laying to rest of tragedy and loss.

"_This is our time_," Murase's words filled the space of every home, restaurant, and business. "_It is time for us to return home_."

Baiken blew a ring of smoke; though her gaze was focused on the wall there was no doubt that she'd heard every word. "And now the riots," she muttered.

Anji frowned, but it was Chipp who replied to her first. "So what happens now?" he asked, glancing between Baiken, Anji, and Wakami. "Is the whole Colony going to move?"

"I don't know," Wakami admitted. "This is so sudden—where will we go?"

Baiken snorted. "Back to the real world," she said, tapping the ashes from her pipe. "Japan needs a lot of work before it can sustain any number of people, let alone a full population. There will probably be surveyors, then demolition and land-clearers, construction workers… But before that, they'll have to consult with the United Nations and Global Police, in order to reclaim their status as an independent country."

Chipp considered that as he leaned back on his hands. "Huh. Sounds…like a really big deal."

Though Baiken shot him a glare, Anji couldn't help but chuckle somewhat. "Yeah, Chipp. It'll be a very big deal." He reached for the cup he'd been sipping from all evening, gulping it down. "Looks like Baiken and I will be sticking around for a long while."

"Me?" Baiken glared at him. "You think I'm staying here through this mess? You've gotta be shitting me."

"You're the one that started it," Anji pointed out with a faint smile. "So now you have to see it through."

Baiken rolled her eye, and with a snort pushed to her feet. "I stayed away this long so I wouldn't have to deal with it," she muttered, moving to the panel which led out to the courtyard. She slid it open with her foot and slipped outside, but she didn't go far—just to lean against one of the wooden pillars along the porch.

Chipp spared a glance for her before turning back to Wakami. "Well, I guess your dad wouldn't go through with it if he wasn't sure about it, right?" he tried to assure her. "It'll be a big change but the real world isn't that bad. Most of the time. You know?"

"Yes, of course. It's just so strange…"

Anji glanced at them both, and after a moment went after Baiken. He paused in the open doorway, just watching her back as she continued to smoke. He knew better than to really listen to her sharp words; the uncharacteristic quiet she held now was proof enough that she was taking the news seriously. Getting her to admit it, though, would take some careful wording.

"Hey." Anji didn't attempt any closer, uncertain how much it would take to spur her stubbornness on. "What are you thinking?"

Baiken sighed, a thin trail of tobacco smoke rising. "I don't know," she confessed gruffly. "What am I supposed to think?"

"I don't know." Taking a chance Anji edged a step closer, moving up beside her. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

He leaned down a little to see her face, and was surprised to see how solemn her expression appeared. She'd been surprising him a lot lately, with that look of hers. He reached out, brushing a few strands of hair from her face.

Baiken's eye narrowed and swiveled up to him, and with a sheepish smile he pulled his hand back. "Did you hear me?"

She looked away again. "I didn't want this," she finally answered. "It's just the best solution. That's all."

Anji's own expression softened a little as he continued to watch her. "You really do care about us all, don't you?" he asked quietly.

Baiken lifted her head, looking startled and, for a moment, almost vulnerable. It was greater an opportunity than Anji needed, and he leaned closer still, touching his lips briefly to hers. It wasn't until they'd brushed that he realized just how long he had been waiting for that contact, and he surprised himself by being satisfied with it.

Baiken pulled back, sharply, and probably too soon for the touch of mouth to even really be considered a kiss. She stared back at him, and for what may have been the first time in his memory he couldn't make any sense of the face she was making at him. She didn't look angry or even startled—maybe only vaguely disturbed as she turned away, striding evenly away.

Anji sighed quietly, and when he turned back towards his room should have expected to see Chipp and Wakami staring at him. He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Um…"

"Smooth, Anji," Chipp snickered from behind his hand. "Way smooth."

Anji blushed, and shoved Chipp back onto his rear as he moved into room once more. "Go drink your _saké_, Chipp," he muttered, sitting down in front of the radio.

OoooooO

Ky and his officers searched all through the night with very little to show for it. Despite the injury Axl had described Venom as having, they were unable to discover a trail of blood from the scene past the alley. No one had seen him escape. No one had even known one of the planet's most wanted criminals was even in town. All they had to go on was the testimony of a motel maid, who had nearly been assaulted by Axl and Venom that morning. Since then Axl had apparently returned to reclaim the rest of their belongings. Ky was beginning to wish with great bitterness that he had not released Axl when he did; by now it was obvious that the pair was indeed working together. Though what Axl Low stood to gain from aiding a global criminal was beyond Ky's comprehension.

It wasn't until sunrise was nearly upon them that Ky's officers—and several volunteers from among the veterans—convinced their leader to return home. He was still off duty, after all, and they insisted that he rest after so long and trying a day. Ky was stubbornly reluctant, and in the end in took Bridget's threats of creative headlocks that at last convinced him. The young bounty hunter had not left his side during any of it; Ky was able to rationalize momentarily abandoning the search if only to get Bridget to rest as well.

They returned to his small Paris house just as the eastern skyline was beginning to glow. Ky managed only to remove his gloves, boots, and sword belt before fatigue prevented him from going further. He retreated into the living room, hoping that at least some of his worries would be eased by seeing Testament returned and well. But…the Gear was not there.

"Testament?" Ky moved through the house, wondering if perhaps he had long since gone to bed himself, but there was no trace of him, or even that he had returned after their separation that afternoon. Ky returned from the upstairs with a frown, trailing his hand along the back of his small sofa as his eyes made one last sweep of the room.

Bridget stifled a yawn as he rummaged through Ky's cupboards. "He's not back yet?"

"No." Ky lowered his eyes, and with a weary sigh sank onto the couch. He was still a moment, and then his fist came down on the armrest in frustration. "Where the hell is he? Every available police and former Holy Order officer is out on the streets tonight—he can't stay hidden for long."

"Do you mean Testament?" Bridget asked as he trotted over. "Or the assassin?" He offered one of the small shortbread cookies he'd managed to unearth. "Cookie?"

Ky regarded the offering blankly for a long moment before finally accepting, nibbling half-heartedly. As ridiculous as it seemed, he felt a little better. Maybe it was just having a bit of food in his stomach. "Thank you," he murmured.

Bridget plunked down on the sofa next to him, bouncing a little on the cushions. He covered another yawn. "Testament will be fine," he assured easily. "And the assassin guy can't get that far, right? There was a lot of blood in that place—he could even be dead by now. Either way, they'll find him."

Ky's eyes narrowed. "That's…part of what worries me," he muttered. "It _was_ a lot of blood. Enough that most men wouldn't have survived. Not without…help."

Bridget watched him, waiting for further explanation, but Ky wasn't ready to form the thoughts in his own mind to a reasonable conclusion, let alone voice them. He sighed again, and plucked another cookie out of Bridget's hands. "Never mind. I can't think well right now." He rubbed at his eyes, which were beginning to sore with fatigue. "It's been a long day…"

A smaller body pressed up against his side, and Ky blinked—Bridget had rested his chin on his shoulder, and was watching him from very close. "So go to sleep," he suggested, looking halfway toward that advice already. "You look really awful, you know. And if you stay right on the sofa here, you'll be sure to hear when Testament gets back, right?"

Ky made a face, not exactly flattered by Bridget's declaration of his poor state. But he was exhausted, and the idea held promise… He smiled wearily and nodded. "All right, Bridget. I can't argue with you." He began to shift, drawing his legs up onto the sofa as Bridget edged back to give him room. "You can take my bed upstairs, if you want…" He covered a yawn of his own.

Bridget slid to the edge of the sofa, watching as Ky gradually stretched out to rest his head against one of the decorative pillows. He licked his lips as he waited for the officer to settle, and then shifted a bit closer, keeping a close vigil of his face. He looked so much like he had earlier, so tired…. "Ky…?"

"Hm…?" As soon as Ky's eyelids slid shut his entire body seemed to relax; it was somewhat fascinating to watch, as if he were literally sinking into the soft sofa cushions. Testimony to his exhaustion his breath was already coming more deeply.

Bridget took advantage of the man's failing consciousness to ask, "Can I stay here with you?"

"All right…if you want. Though it might not be that comfortable."

"I'll be fine," Bridget assured, his cheeks warming a little. He pushed up on his knees, and was delighted when Ky shifted sleepily, allowing him to lie between him and the sofa back. He knew this was probably wildly inappropriate of him, to be seeking this kind of half-coerced affection, but it had been a long day for him as well. Bridget reasoned that, having accompanied Ky through the morning, memorial, police station, and the late night streets of Paris had earned him a bit of pleasant rest. And, of course, he wanted to wait up for Testament, too.

Adjusting the two bodies to each other was a bit awkward in the small space, but Bridget was too determined to be put out and Ky too weary to care. Ultimately Ky lifted his arm so the boy could sidle up against his side, head resting against his shoulder. Bridget shivered happily as Ky's hand came to rest against his back once they'd settled. Though it was wrong of him to satisfy his curiosity when Ky was suffering so many anxieties, he couldn't battle back the little flutter in his chest. Curled against a strong, mature body…watching Ky's features relax into handsome tranquility…it was everything he had dreamed of in the nights since Italy.

"Ky…?" Bridget stretched his head up a little, and when the officer didn't reply he deemed it safe to press a little kiss to Ky's cheek. The officer didn't move, encouraging another. But when Bridget tried to lift himself higher, to maybe try for something even sweeter, Ky hummed quietly in his sleep and he lost his nerve. But the two little kisses and a comfortable resting place were more than enough to placate Bridget for now, and with a tiny giggle he relaxed against Ky's chest and was soon asleep.

OoooooO

"Rue Beaubourg…Rue Beabourg….white house…white…aha! Gotcha."

Axl hopped down from the roof to the fire escape, and from there carefully made his way down to the street. He had spent most of the night moving from rooftop to rooftop, doing his best to keep out of the sight of the different law officers moving about the city. He had managed to save Venom's travel briefcase from the motel before the police got there, at least—by now he was pretty sure that Ky had caught onto him, and he had no intention of facing another interrogation.

For now, it seemed that the search had calmed somewhat in the hours between night and dawn, and Axl took his chance to skitter across the road to the small white shack. He moved around to the back and knocked. "Hello? I'm completely harmless, really!"

There was no answer, and after a full minute of knocking without any sign of being answered he was beginning to wonder if Testament had misspoken. Or maybe it was a trap…? But then the door jerked open suddenly, and with a yelp Axl hopped back several steps. He gulped. "Are…you…?"

Opposite him in the doorway was an unnaturally tall figure of a man, dressed in a white overcoat and blue tie. Though a seven foot tall man would normally draw a lot of attention, Axl found his gaze drawn most acutely to the brown paper bag set over his head, which in turn donned a blue and white party hat.

"What?" the man asked in a high voice as Axl continued to gape. He pointed to the hat. "It's a holiday season, you know."

Axl stumbled over a response. "Told me to come here," he managed to stammer out. "The white-haired guy…friend…um, I think this is maybe the wrong house…?"

"Aha!" the man crowed, and Axl jumped, nearly ready to bolt once more; he'd had enough strange characters to last him a while. But before he could decide on a direction the man's wide hand curled in his jacket-front, jerking him up the steps and into the shack. "I've been waiting," he rattled on as he pulled the startled blonde along. "The Gear told me you'd be coming. That's really something, you actually showing up—as much as me accepting him in the first place. I've just finished the operation."

"Operation?" Axl echoed with trepidation. When he looked harder, he could see flecks of blood beneath the man's fingernails. He gulped. "Are you…a healer?"

"Better," he replied, and suddenly the man stopped, kicking over a nearby chair—a large section of the floor came with it, falling back to reveal a staircase heading into a dimly lit basement. "I'm a doctor."

Axl allowed himself to be guided down the narrow steps, careful of his luggage in the small space. The walls were thick concrete, unusually warm given their being underground, and the space was eerily lit with magic lights along the ceiling. They cast strange shadows on his even stranger host. "A doctor," he echoed belatedly as the steps leveled out to open floor. "A real physician?"

"Yes indeed—Faust, I'm called." He paused long enough to take Axl's hand and pump it strong.

"Axl Low," the blonde introduced dumbly. So Testament had really taken Venom to a healer—even now he almost didn't believe it. At least, not until he spotted a wisp of pale hair in the next room. When Faust motioned that it was all right for him to investigate further he did so, creeping into the room. It was a small, white-walled chamber with blue drapes over a fake window, but most importantly a bed against the wall bearing the slumbering form of Venom. Axl moved to crouch next to it, taking a look of the man. He looked a little less pale than last he'd seen him, his wounds dressed and clothing replaced by a long white dressing gown. Axl sighed quietly in relief. "Is he all right?"

"He should recover fully," Faust replied, and though Axl couldn't see his face there was something tense in his voice that didn't help him feel any better. "Though it looks like someone gave him a boost before I got him. He's pretty far down under some drugs I gave him—he won't be saying howdy-doo anytime soon."

Axl grinned. "Thanks, Doc. I owe ya." He chuckled a little to himself—when he'd sent Testament after a "crooked bloke" he hadn't meant downright odd. But at least Venom did seem to be doing all right. "Is it okay if I wait around for him to wake up? Y'know, just to make sure he's right up'n all."

"If you want. There's an extra bed in the next room." Faust backed out into the larger chamber. "Unless, of course, someone comes in needing it." Slouching forward a little, he moved off.

Axl gave a slight shrug and stood. "What a day, huh, ya damn ruffian?" he laughed quietly. Venom's full face was exposed in the dull light, thanks to Faust having tied his hair back while he operated. He didn't exactly look peaceful so much as deeply asleep, but Axl was still relieved. "I went through lots of trouble for you. I hope you're grateful."

Suppressing a yawn, Axl left in search of the bed Faust had mentioned.

OoooooO

Testament didn't return to Ky's small house until after dawn the next morning. Along the way he had discarded and incinerated his own bloodied coat, just to keep Ky from worrying when he showed up again. Though maybe "suspecting" would have fit more than "worrying." Even he had had a difficult time moving through the city with so many various officers moving about, doubtlessly under Ky's own orders. Looking for whoever had aided Venom's escape…

He moved down the front hall silently, intending to find himself something to eat while he waited for Ky to return home, or wake up, whichever happened to be the case. He was paused, however, by the sight of Ky and Bridget nestled together on the sofa. Frowning, he stood watching them for some time before moving forward. Both looked to be soundly asleep. Despite how strange the day had been he couldn't help but feel more relaxed just by seeing them.

Testament crouched down beside the sofa, and just because he could pressed a full kiss to Ky's lips. He felt the man stir beneath him, drawing a breath through his nose as his head tilted up to meet the early morning affection. The movement started to draw Bridget awake as well, and Testament reached out to cover the boy's eyes, as if keeping the morning light from him would prevent him from waking just yet.

Ky urged him gently back, greeting him with a tired smile. "We were waiting up for you," he chuckled.

Testament smiled thinly. "I can see that." He glanced at Bridget, who had fallen still again, his first curled up next to his cheek like a small child. "Do you need some help getting away?"

Ky sighed and nodded. Both being as careful and quiet as possible Ky managed to slip off of the sofa, and Testament slung an arm around his waist to pull him up on his feet. The officer suppressed a chuckle, but was soon serious. "Where were you all last night?" he asked with concern. "Every officer in Paris was out—we were worried."

"I was lost," Testament replied, which was pretty much the truth. "And I did see your officers. It took me most of the night just to get back here without being seen."

Ky sighed again, and gave him a brief hug before pulling away. "I was worried," he repeated as he headed toward the kitchen. "You shouldn't have gone so far from the house. I'm glad you and Bridget came to visit, but you certainly picked the worst time of the year for it."

Testament gave Bridget a pillow to hug before following Ky into the kitchen. "I can take care of myself."

"I know, but that's beside the point. And now assassins…" He moved to fill his teapot at the sink. "Were you in the south end of town today?"

Testament's fingers curled slightly. "South end?" he echoed innocently. "I was lost, but…I think so." He wasn't going to lie. There was no reason for that, especially when…Ky's tone sounded almost testing.

Once the fire was lit for the kettle Ky moved away, retrieving tea leaves from a small wooden box near the stove. "Venom was. You know of him, don't you? The assassin?" Ky shook his head in disbelief. "Right in the middle of Paris."

"That's…pretty bold of him."

"Yes, it is." Ky turned away to retrieve sugar to go with his drink. "Axl was there, too."

Testament's eyes narrowed; he was caught. He should have realized that even after helping the pair Axl would still report having seen him to the police. It was no wonder he'd been so wary of him when they met outside the office headquarters. And now Ky knew, which meant—

"He saw you there, you know," Ky continued, finally turning to face Testament across the kitchen. His eyes were weary, but firm. "That's all he said, but I know he wouldn't have seen you at all unless you'd let him. So what happened?"

Testament stared back at him, and though he suddenly regretted having ever left the house at all he didn't falter beneath Ky's steady gaze. "Nothing important."

Ky set his sugar cup down heavily on the countertop, so that the ceramic lid clattered off and spilled some of the contents. "Axl was helping Venom—you were with Axl. I know you did something, Testament."

Though Testament would have loved to deny it, that wouldn't have helped him against Ky. And…he didn't want to, he realized. He crossed his arms defensively over his chest. "I happened on them by chance," admitted evenly. "The man was bleeding badly so I stopped it, and dropped him off with a healer."

Ky straightened, his eyes widening as if he hadn't been prepared for Testament to actually answer. Some of the color drained from his face. "Why?" he asked quietly. "You know what he is. You…_helped_ him?"

"Who he is and what he does doesn't have much of an effect on me, does it?" Testament countered. "He was hurt and I helped him." His eyes thinned. "Just like I did you."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ky snapped, his anger abruptly resurfacing. He marched forward. "Venom is a murderer and wanted criminal. You _know_ how long I've been after him, how many men I've lost. It's probably even _me_ he's in the city to kill!"

Testament leaned back against the countertop. "He's not going to be killing anyone. He's still badly wounded."

Ky glared at him, his posture tense. He could see the muscles in the officer's jaw working to draw forth a response. "So," Ky said at last. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know. Probably still with the healer."

Ky's eyes narrowed in frustration. "And this healer is…?"

Testament pursed his lips as something cool and hollow pulsed in his stomach. If he told Ky where the man was, he would rally his officers and kill him, and probably Axl, too, if he found him. There was no doubt in his mind, also, that Ky would do so without waiting for either of their explanations. Though Testament himself really didn't care either way, there was something in Ky's anxious manner that was making him uneasy. "I saved a man's life," he said quietly. "I thought that was what you wanted of me."

Ky snorted and turned away, leaving his tea as he hunted for his boots and gloves. "What you saved," he muttered, "is not a man. He's a cold blooded killer, and he's going to pay for every life he's taken."

Testament closed his eyes a moment, but there was no halting the suddenly bitter taste he imagined at the back of his throat. Ky couldn't even realize what he himself was saying. "You haven't really changed at all, have you?"

Ky buckled up his boots and then started on his gloves. "I don't know what you mean."

Testament started to explain, but then stopped himself, simply watching Ky with dull eyes as he finished his dressing. It wasn't as if pointing it out to Ky would change anything. He sighed wearily. "You're such a hypocrite."

Ky was suddenly standing before him, his eyes nearly blazing. "Where is he?" he demanded, Thunderseal clasped tightly in his grip.

Testament regarded him blankly and then glanced away. "I can't tell you."

Though Testament was expecting a reprimand, the swift impact of gloved knuckles to his unguarded stomach was far greater than he was ready for. His breath left him all at once, and as Ky turned sharply away he grasped at the countertop to keep from dropping to his knees.

"I'll find him myself," Ky snapped, not looking back.

"Testament…?" a hesitant voice sounded near his ear, accompanied by the heavy thud of Ky's front door slamming. Testament gasped after his lost breath and, with Bridget's support, managed to push himself upright once more. He grimaced as he rubbed his stomach—the pain was already subsiding.

"Testament?" Bridget said again, taking a step back. "What's going on? Where's Ky go—"

"It's nothing," Testament interrupted bitterly. "Damnit…damnit, Ky…!"

Testament pushed away from the still flustered and confused Bridget, but he knew better than to leave the house—in full daylight, any one of the Holy Order veterans would be able to spot and recognize him. With another half-hearted curse he moved slump onto the sofa.

"I'm going to sleep," he muttered, pulling a pillow onto his head to block out the sun. The last thing he saw before his sight was obstructed was Bridget taking Ky's abandoned tea kettle off the stove.


	9. Chapter 8

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

OMG time travel drives me editor sucks so I'm making scene breaks any way it'll let me... >.>

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 8

He listened, as he always did, with thin eyes and strict attention as the report was given to him. And though he never doubted the ability of his spies, this particular declaration he asked to be repeated to him more than once before he was satisfied. His servants waited, anxious and silent, until he had turned from the communications mirror to face them.

"So," he murmured heavily, sinking back into his twisted throne. "This day…has finally come. Have a hundred years really passed?"

"What are we going to do?" I-no asked, trying to be patient though her face was bright with anticipation. "It will take them a while to do anything, but before long they'll be crawling out all over, won't they?" Her lip twisted. "We could always—"

"No," the man interrupted firmly, though a moment later he had relaxed again. "No, the situation is not yet that desperate. Though measures will have to be taken." He was silent for a long moment, drawing all sound out of the rest of the chamber with him. Finally, his robes rustled as he leaned forward.

"I-no. I have a task for you," he murmured, his voice as grave as ever she'd heard it. "You will go to Paris. I believe the creature is already there—call on him, if you must. There are two things I need you to acquire for me."

The man's second servant, who stood at his right side, snorted disdainfully. "Paris is heavily fortified. If you need an important job done, you should send me."

But the man shook his head. "No, I will need you here, with me." He slid off of his seat. "You and I will be heading for China."

"So?" I-no cocked a hand on her hip. She wasn't especially looking forward to braving Paris during a holiday, though she had no lack of confidence. "What is it I'm getting?"

"An item," the man related as he started away, the pair following along behind. He made his way down a dark, narrow corridor, which opened into a small chamber of iridescent lights gleaming off polished metal laboratory equipment. "And a man. The item is a mirror, located in the center of Paris beneath the Records and Communications Building, and the man is a convict being held in the maximum security ward of the Global Police Headquarters."

I-no whistled appreciatively. "That's a tall order, Boss, even for me. Sure I can't take the beast here?" She jerked her thumb toward the tall form beside her.

"I will need Raven here," the man repeated. "Between you and the creature you should be able to manage, even without this."

He pulled a blue gem off one of the cluttered tables; it was darker than a sapphire and strung on a thick silver chain. "This will allow you to pass through the different magical barriers the Global Police have set up," he explained. "It collects the lightning magic used in creating the prisons and guard barriers. It may even protect you against Officer Kiske for a time, though if Slayer's warnings were true you shouldn't count on it for too long."

"Right. Kiske." Frowning, I-no accepted the amulet. Though it was clearly meant to have been a necklace she opted to fasten it around her waist. "How will I know the guy when I find him?"

"I think you'll know," the man assured.

I-no smirked a little, and blew the man a kiss. "Well okay, then. I guess I'll be off."

She drew her guitar around in front of her, and the man and his servant each took a wise step back. Her fingers struck a loud chord that echoed in the small space, distorting the air around her so that her figure began to blur. As I-no continued to play the distortion worsened, until her entire body was consumed by it, and then began to fade out along with the guitar's ebbing reverberations.

The man watched the process with grim satisfaction, and when there was nothing left of I-no but a slight ringing in his ear he shook his head and turned to his remaining companion. "Prepare our transportation. We have to leave as well."

((-))

When Venom awoke, he was already wishing he hadn't. Though he could tell that his wounds had been treated, that he was even in a warm, clean bed and maybe even safe, he felt as if his entire body was pressed beneath a heavy, burning weight. His stomach, especially, was aching, and sent a stinging pain through him with every breath. He was nauseous and his head was pounding. All things considered, he was fairly certain he would have been better off dead. Maybe everyone was right—maybe that was what he wanted.

But it was the voice that drew him back, and this time he wasn't surprised to see Axl poking around the room. He couldn't seem to get rid of the man. But accepting it took less effort, so he sighed, letting his eyes fall shut again.

Axl's humming stopped, and his careful footsteps proceeded a quiet inquiry. "Hey. Are you awake?"

Venom groaned, but didn't feel it necessary to open his eyes again. Instead he reached up, tugging at his hair—he couldn't get it to cover his face. "Can you fix it?"

Axl snorted quietly. "You should leave it back," he said, though a moment later fingers were seeping into Venom's hair, loosening the ties so it could be drawn forward. "You might choke on it in your sleep."

"I haven't before." Venom drew the soft locks over his face, and immediately felt a little better, even if it parted awkwardly over his nose and didn't hide him as well as usual. "Where am I?"

"In a hidden basement," Axl replied, far too exuberantly for his tastes. "The Gear told me I could find you here—the doctor patched you up pretty well. He says you'll recover pretty well."

"Doctor…?" Venom frowned slightly. He himself didn't know the physician that worked Rue Beaubourg; when one of his men had reported having found a safe healer, he'd instructed all his men towards it if they happened to be in Paris and needed the treatment. There were dozens of such places all over the world, and though he knew of each one there wasn't much point in being able to identify every individual man and woman doctor. They were easy enough to take care of, if they refused to be of service.

In any case, there were more important things. "So…it really was a Gear," Venom murmured, gingerly probing the edge of the bandages across his chest and stomach. "Gears, doctors, you…why are there so many people trying to keep me alive?"

Axl was quiet for a moment, though Venom knew he hadn't left by the quiet sound of his breath nearby. "Is't so bad?" he asked after the pause, some of his usual humor gone. There was a scrape of wood against carpet as Axl dragged a chair closer to sit in. "Being alive. We went through a lot of trouble for you."

"You shouldn't have bothered," Venom replied bitterly. The memories of his encounter in the restaurant were coming back to him, and it made his voice hoarse with emotion. "Slayer…was right. What's left for me? The Guild is dead—Lord Zato is…." Shivering, Venom turned his head away. "I failed him."

Axl hummed lowly. "I don't know about all that," he admitted. "But you know why I stuck with you this long?" He chuckled. "It's pretty selfish, but you keep asking, I think you deserve to hear it."

Venom kept his head turned stubbornly away; he was not in a mood for any speeches. But it didn't seem that Axl was about to leave him, otherwise. He sighed. "All right. Why?"

"I know it sounds daft," Axl set himself up, his voice light—Venom could hear the smile he wore. "But for some reason, I met you in town the other night. And for whatever reason, time said it was worth something, 'cause it sent me back for a second helping." He chuckled again, quieter than before. "I don't know why I timeslip. But I figure…a loop like that has to mean something. I met you for a reason. So I figure I gotta stick with you for a while, to see what happens."

Venom's eyes opened halfway, staring out across the small room as he considered those words. For a reason…. At last he turned toward Axl, and his hair fell just enough so that he could fix the man with one weary eye. Axl just looked so ridiculous, sitting there with his chin resting the back of his chair. "That _is_ selfish."

The blonde smiled at him. "Yeah. It really is, huh?"

"Yes." Venom stretched a little, turning his face up toward the ceiling. "I suppose you have someone waiting for you," he muttered. "Back in your own time."

"What makes you say that…?"

"Because that's the only reason anyone ever does anything." Venom continued to slide his fingertips over the bandages, tracing the holes cut in him, hoping to make them hurt more but not brave enough to press too harshly into them. "For something you can't have. We're all that selfish…"

Axl heaved a loud sigh, breaking the momentary stillness that had fallen over them. "Listen, pal. I didn't save your life to listen to you talk like that, eh? Geez, you're such a downer." He stood, and pushed the chair back against the wall. "I know you're in a rough spot, but how about focusing on being happy to be alive for a while, okay? I'm gonna go see if Faust has anything for lunch."

Venom started. "Faust?" he echoed weakly, and suddenly he was trying to push himself upright, his arms trembling as he braced his hands against the mattress. "Faust is—" But his stomach muscles wouldn't aid him, adding a quiver of pain to the sudden flash of cold panic sweeping through him.

"H-Hey—cut that out." Axl quickly moved to urge Venom back down. "Faust's the doctor that healed you." He pinned the man's chest down when he refused to lie still. "What's the matter?"

Venom pried weakly at Axl's hands, but he was suddenly out of breath, and the more he gasped after it the worse his injuries burned and made him more breathless. He was so busy trying to regain his composure that he only noticed they weren't alone when a pair of unnaturally large human hands twisted around his wrist. He jumped, and in a panic tried to twist away. His gaze fell on one gleaming eye through a brown paper bag, and then a needle pierced his flesh, filling his veins with an unwanted substance.

"Nn…!" Venom thrashed with the last of his strength and heard a tiny snap, but between Faust's wide hands and Axl aiding him, he couldn't break away from either of them. Even more frightening, whatever had been injected into him was beginning to slow his senses. His muscles relaxed without his command, and the pain in his abdomen began to subside. Though he was grateful for that much, the loss of control made him shiver almost violently. His fingers tightened in the front of Axl's shirt.

"Now, now," Faust muttered, taking a better hold of Venom's wrist so that he could pluck the broken off syringe out of his arm. He produced a small, heart-shaped band-aid out of his coat pocket to cover the small wound. "There's no need to get yourself worked up."

"Dr. Ba…nn…!" Venom gave his hand one last jerk before finally giving in, collapsing weakly against the mattress. He closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning as Axl breathed a sigh of relief. After a moment of allowing the drug to run its course, he was able to speak again. "Why…?"

"Why? You're tearing your stitches, that's why," Faust admonished. He tugged the blankets up over Venom's chest once more, and he was too weak to protest. "I was gonna bring you something to eat, but it looks like you need a nap, first."

"No…" Venom gulped, but it was becoming difficult to even keep his eyes open any longer. As his vision swam he could make out Axl standing over him, looking concerned, and Faust himself watching him from the other side of the bed. "I…don't understand," he whispered, and then he slipped into unconsciousness again.

Axl scratched the back of his neck, glancing between the slumbering Venom and Faust with confusion. "Um…I guess you know each other?" he remarked sheepishly.

Faust didn't respond at first; he was crouched beside Venom's bed, watching him, and though with his face hidden there was no telling his expression, his manner seemed abruptly serious. "His guild once killed a patient of mine," he said, simply, as if no other explanation of their history were necessary.

"Oh…" Axl shifted awkwardly, and then smiled, hoping he wasn't about to say the worst thing he possibly could. "Then…it's really good of you, to take care of him."

Faust stood. It was somewhat impressive to watch the unfolding of such long limbs, how he rose so easily to so great a height—over seven feet at least. Axl held back from speaking further, fearful of having upset the man, but then Faust only nodded, and turned to leave.

"When he wakes up," he said without looking back, "there'll be some soup for him in the kitchen upstairs."

((-))

"Tell me one more time," the creature grumbled irritably, "why I'm helping _you_?"

I-no smirked, though in truth she was becoming annoyed with having to answer Eddie's questions. "Because," she stated firmly, not for the first time, "if it wasn't for my benefactor and I, you would be long since dead. Don't forget _he's_ the one that used his magic to prevent the Assassin from withering. Where would you be if not for him?"

Eddie muttered something she couldn't make out and moved to the edge of the rooftop they'd taken as a perch—overlooking the Global Police Headquarters. A light snow had begun to fall, and all about beneath them the city folk wandered, returning to their mundane jobs after a week of holiday. "Kiske will be in there," he growled. "He is the head of police, you know."

"The holiday's officially over—he should be on duty somewhere, hunting for your assassin friend."

Eddie's red eyes narrowed on her, but she felt rather than saw them. He growled again. "Venom. I still need to take care of him."

I-no's lip quirked. "Then maybe when we're done here I'll give you a hand with that—to even the score. Shit, it's cold." She tugged her jacket across her breasts, trying to give back some warmth to her exposed torso. She should have thought out her attire before jumping off like she had. Deciding it was time for action, she pushed upright. "Are you ready?"

Zato-1's corpse pushed awkwardly to his feet, and was soon covered in the parasite's dark flesh. "If Kiske is in there," Eddie warned, "I'll leave you behind."

"Don't be so dramatic." I-no rolled her eyes, and patted the dark sapphire against her hip. "I have this, remember? You just keep the police off me long enough to grab our friend, and we'll be home free."

Eddie returned her confidence with a frown. "And what about the mirror? Do you really think we'll be able to cross Paris to the Communication's building with the Global Police on us?"

"We won't have to."

Eddie started to question, but it was then that a high pitched tone vibrated the air behind them, and he turned in alarm. Claws formed from his long fingers as he watched in bewilderment the appearance of a second I-no. She looked identical to the woman standing beside him, except for the addition of a long, thick blue mantle tied around her shoulders; it bulged behind her in the shape of her guitar. She blew the pair a kiss. "Hey there, Darling."

I-no grinned coyly. "Hey yourself, bitch."

"What's going on?" Eddie demanded. He took a step back as his eyes danced back and forth between the women. "Who the hell is this?"

The caped I-no laughed, a sharp, cruel sound on the crisp air. "Don't tell me you forgot me already, Handsome."

"Don't worry about her," the original I-no assured her companion. "I'll explain later." And then she added, to her double, "See you in a bit, Gorgeous."

"He's in a bad mood today—watch out for the side kick."

"Will do—thanks."

"Anytime, Skank."

The caped I-no turned and started off down the roof while whistling a cheerful tune. Eddie, meanwhile, was swiveling to face the remaining woman, his beast-like face a twist of confusion and frustration. "What the hell was that?"

"That was me," I-no explained at last. "At least, me a few minutes from now. Now let's go already." Without waiting for his response she leapt from the building, landing daintily on her high heels on the street below.

Eddie shook his head, still grumbling about having been forced into this "job" while he was still recovering himself. He followed all the same, spreading his leathery shadow wings to glide down to the Headquarter's entrance. People on the ground gasped and pointed but he spared no attention for them, barreling instead into the pair of guards on duty.

I-no sauntered casually up to the commotion—she stood back as Eddie pummeled both men unconscious amidst cries of horror from the streets. "Excitable little things, aren't they?" she purred. She stepped over the bodies and threw the doors open.

The entranceway of the Global Police Headquarters was an immense hall, lined with marble statues and dozens of various offices and alcoves. I-no whistled appreciatively as she moved inside, her heels tapping. Already the officers were gathering, brandishing weapons of blade and magic. A quick scan showed that Kiske was not with them at the moment.

"Hold it!" a man called off to the left. He held with him a particularly nasty looking spear. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"

"Just paying a friend a visit," I-no replied, shooting him a coy smile. When a pair of women approached cautiously she held up her hands as if in surrender. But as soon as they were in range her fingers snapped around the neck of her guitar; she planted her feet and swung the instrument laterally in front of her, smashing both women in the head and sending them spilling to the ground.

The man with the spear began shouting orders, but I-no didn't pause to hear. She sprinted through the group of advancing officers, and just before closing with them leapt clearly over their heads. By then Eddie had charged into the building as well, and his low roar echoed impressively off the marble columns as he engaged the crowd.

"Thanks, precious." With Eddie keeping them busy I-no continued on, knocking a few brave men and women out of her way in her sprint to a door on the west wall. A burst of her own magic sent the heavy iron spinning off its hinges. Giggling, she hopped down the steps and into the area of prison cells.

Her master had assured her she would be able to tell which of the convicts he had intended for her to retrieve. But faced with the darkened basement of the holding cells, each wall lined with thick doors and twisting in various directions, she uttered a curse under her breath. "I suppose this could have used some better planning," she muttered. Mindful of the situation Eddie was in on the upper floor she picked the hall straight ahead of her and moved down it, her eyes darting among the cells.

A few catcalls and whistles followed her down the line, but with the magic flowing through each cell door none of the prisoners were bold enough to venture too close. I-no smiled to herself as she went—she was not above accepting the lewd praise of a few convicts.

But as she passed one of the cells a chill ran up the length of her spine, and she stopped, having the strange sensation of a woman's eyes on her. She turned, finding herself the object of a cold stare—but a man's. He was a handsome youth despite his vacant expression, with soft brown hair and sculpted muscles. Something about his unusually still posture drew I-no closer.

"What's your name, stranger?" she greeted lightly, a thin smirk on her lips.

The boy continued to stare at her, unblinking. His eyes were dilated in the dim light, his shoulders held stiffly. His pale skin made him look like a corpse. "Let me out of here."

I-no's smirk vanished; the voice that passed through his lips was low and cold, like a sharp wind, and she felt another chill. She shook herself—it wasn't like her to be so weak-willed. "You know I can't just do that, honey. Not unless you're the one I came for."

"You came for me," he assured in that same strange voice, for a moment looking as if a shadow had fallen over his face. "Let me out."

"He knows me pretty well," I-no mused aloud as she stepped forward, tilting her hip so that her jewel was positioned in front of the lock. "He must have known you'd catch my eye. You'd better be right."

The magic flowing through the metal twisted, and just as that man had promised retreated obediently into I-no's bright sapphire. The door clicked and she stood back as it swung slowly open. "There you are, friend. Now if you'd be so kind…"

As soon as the cell was opened Zappa strode haltingly out, legs and arms swinging a bit with a boneless quality. I-no paused a moment to watch his progress towards the stairs. "I hope you can fight," she muttered as she fell into step beside him. It occurred to her then that she didn't know why her master wanted this man anyway—he might not have been strong enough to even defend himself.

Zappa's head lolled sickeningly to the side. "I can fight."


	10. Chapter 9

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

Some actual Authors Notes?

For this fic I've incorporated some of the Sacred Weapons which have not yet really been explained in Guilty Gear except for their names, so…I apologize in advance for when canon rips this fic apart XD.

Yume no Zencho pointed out that I use "thin" and "thinned" a lot in my description of eyes. And I realized…s/he's right! I really do ;;;. Thanks for pointing it out, I'm always trying to improve my writing. And…I think it was Shetan a while back who asked about Zato—since there are times Zato-1 isn't covered up, I like referring to him and Eddie separately (even if he's dead . ). That's how you see him in the games so I figured it would help preserve the image. I hope it's not too confusing.

I just want to give a shout out thanks to everyone who's supported this fic. I really appreciate it, especially since I know some of it's a stretch. Especially Uzumaki and Shetan—you spoil me! Things start to get complicated in this chapter, and I hope you like it.

Oh, and I still hate time travel. Why do I keep writing it?

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 9

Ky had been in a foul enough mood to begin with that morning, and so when the report reached him only an hour into his duties that his own headquarters was under siege he was livid. His carriage sped him through Paris's streets; the vehicle had not completely halted when he leapt from it, sword drawn and shouting orders to the officers that had come with him. "Barricade the exits," he instructed them. "Whatever it is I'll deal with it—just make sure the intruders don't escape."

The officers nodded, pausing briefly to check on the two felled guards before following their leader inside.

The scene was one of confusion; several officers lay unconscious along the immense main hall while the rest warily encircled the growling creature. If Ky hadn't been there to witness it himself, he might not have believed it. Though he had no doubts as to Eddie's ability, the thought that he would not only remain in Paris but attack the center of its police power was absurd. And yet there he was, throwing one of Ky's younger officers into the crowd.

With a cry Ky leapt at the creature; his officers saw him coming and quickly retreated, but Eddie wasn't fast enough and took a hit from Ky's lightning full to the chest. He screeched as he was thrown back, slamming hard against a marble pillar and sending cracks up its surface.

"Eddie." Ky advanced on him, weapon tightly brandished and expression hard. He pushed the thick material of his mantle behind his shoulders. "Why did you come here?"

"Kiske—" Eddie pushed himself away from the stone, and abruptly the shadow beast melted away to reveal Zato-1's lifeless corpse. He turned as if searching for the exit.

Ky quickly put himself in his way, and the assassin retreated a step with a hiss. Despite the havoc he'd brought upon the headquarters he now looked anxious. "Out of my way, human," he snapped.

"Why did you come here?" Ky demanded again. "I know you killed three of my men yesterday. You should have known better."

"They were in my way," Eddie growled. Hearing the deep voice empty through Zato-1's pale and unmoving face was eerie. "And now _you_ are. Move before I kill you, too!"

But when Eddie didn't back up his threats with an immediate attack Ky's suspicions were confirmed—Eddie was worried. It filled the officer with righteous malice. "I've been waiting a long time for this," he murmured. Thunderseal began to glow within his grasp. "Today you pay for the lives you've taken."

He charged. Zato-1 turned, swinging his arm in a fast arch that sent a wave of shadow at his incoming enemy. Ky's lightning diffused the magic with barely any effort as he barreled down on man and beast. Zato-1 tried to dodge back but Thunderseal tore flesh along his left breast, just below his armpit. The dark matter that slapped against the marble floor was not blood.

Eddie's shadow body engulfed its host once more, quickly sprouting leathery wings in hopes of propelling him into the air. Having anticipated his attempt to flee Ky was quickly on him again, a sharp kick to his gut throwing him back into the pillar. His sword followed; a heavy throw embedded the blade deep into Eddie's wing, and with a silent command from Ky lightning raged through his pinned body. The creature screamed and struggled and finally slumped, panting hard.

"You were weakened from your fight with Venom, and yet you came here," Ky said lowly. Though Thunderseal was no longer in his grasp it pulsed with every movement of his fingers, obeying him perfectly to keep Eddie from resuming his fighting. "Neither of you would have come anywhere near Paris unless you had good reason. What are you doing here?" A swift movement of his hand sent another wave of electricity through him.

"Stupid…bitch," Eddie hissed. His wing shuddered and began to melt away. "I _told_ her…"

Ky frowned, and was about to demand an explanation when a high, ear-piercing note split the immense hall. The officers yelped in surprised and covered their ears—the screeching tone echoed too well off so much stone wall, sending a few of them to their knees. Ky grimaced but held his ground. His darting eyes soon landed on the source of the commotion: a red hat poking out over the tops of his officer's heads.

Ky had heard plenty of stories by now about the "Musician in Red." Though their sudden meeting was unexpected, he had no qualms in facing any of his enemies. Thunderseal glowed with gathered energy, sending Eddie into another fit of screaming. Even without the direct contact of the sword's grip in his hand Ky was able to harness his weapon's magic, and with a grunt flung the bolt of lightning streaking toward the still shrieking hat.

It never reached it; the awful noise abruptly halted, but as Ky watched his magic simply dissipated without having reached its target. He was still overcoming the surprise when the woman rushed him.

She wasn't what Ky had expected, but he snatched Thunderseal from its fleshy sheath and met her head on. She parried his sword using her guitar, and they exchanged several blows that way as the surrounding officers regained their composure.

"It's good to see you again, _Sir_," I-no laughed as she twisted the guitar's handle in her grip. "Sorry about the big fellow." She tipped her head toward Eddie, who was being helped away from the pillar by a familiar youth in a red prison jumper.

Ky stared. "Zappa…?"

Zappa didn't falter in his support of the creature, though his head turned around—all the way around—to meet Ky's gaze. The bones of his neck creaked. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Kiske," Zappa said, and though his face was eerily still, his voice held the innocent sincerity Ky had become familiar with. His head then finished its rotation with another disgusting snap.

"For him?" A shudder of anger swept through the officer. "You raided my headquarters and attacked my officers for this boy?"

"Something like that," I-no replied smugly.

"Why? Why is he that important?"

I-no gave a little shrug. "I honestly don't know," she confessed. "Maybe I just feel bad for him, being locked up like that…" She tilted her head back. "Zappa, is it? Be a doll and help poor little Eddie out of here."

"You're not going anywhere," one of Ky's officers immediately interrupted. He and his fellows quickly blocked the hall. "You're all under arrest!"

"Ah, now that's a shame…" I-no's lip curled, and without warning she leapt at Ky once more. He met her attack easily despite the weight of her unusual weapon, though by then Eddie and Zappa were charging into the men.

Ky growled under his breath, and a sudden shift of his weight threw I-no back. He caught only a glimpse of how his men were fairing; Zappa had thrown himself to the ground, and was scuttling about like a spider to attack the officer's legs while Eddie sailed over them. They were going to make it out. In frustration he attacked I-no with greater fervor. He dented the guitar's body and landed a heavy punch to her midsection that sent her reeling.

He shifted his weight, intending a side kick that would throw her into the pillar Eddie had previously occupied. I-no managed to anticipate the move long before it connected. Displaying her flexibility she ducked beneath his leg by performing the splits, and immediately afterwards drew her legs in and leapt at his back. Ky made only a slight sound of surprise when a sharp jerk on his cloak spun him around. The woman's heavy heel caught him in the back and sent him crashing onto his stomach.

Ky's thick blue mantle came loose, and with a satisfied grin I-no swept the heavy fabric around her own shoulders. "Thanks, Kiske," she laughed. "It's pretty cold out there."

Ky started to push himself up. "You miserable—"

The attack came unexpectedly; I-no was still staring down at him with disdain when a pair of broad jaws clamped mercilessly around Ky's left upper arm. The teeth were sharp and cold against the sudden welling of blood. Ky jerked, but when he twisted Thunderseal about to stab into his enemy the blade cut through what felt like empty air.

The hall was filled with the sound of I-no's guitar, and Ky glanced up just in time to see her fading into nothing with a playful wave. Another jerk of his gaze caught Zappa's back as he ducked out of the main entrance behind Eddie. The canine-like growl from the creature attached to Ky's arm abruptly ceased, and the black vapor-flesh, too, melted away. Leaving only Ky with a bleeding arm and several downed and injured officers.

Ky was helped to his feet, but once there he waved off the assistance of his men. "Call in every available officer," he ordered briskly, his voice thick with anger. "Ask for the veterans as well, if they'll help. Search the city—no one leaves Paris until they're all apprehended!"

"Sir!" A man quickly approached him as the others picked themselves up and began to form groups, under Ky's orders. "Sir, we have a message from the Records and Communication's building."

"Not now," Ky snapped, sheathing Thunderseal so he could take a look at his wounded arm. The bite was deep, and it was quickly soaking his uniform sleeve with blood. He was swiftly approached by their healers.

"But sir," the man insisted. "Their security's been breached…by a woman in red with a guitar."

(((-0-)))

Most of the Colony showed up to see the departure of Murase Yuuya. It was an anxious affair—most of the citizens had never considered leaving their safe and beloved home, let alone bid farewell to one of their most respected public figures. Yuuya assured them with charming words of his well being, and promises that by the time he returned, they would once again be recognized as the nation they were meant to be.

As Anji was forced to stay behind, still confined to the temple, Baiken had come to the base of Anbashi Bridge alone. She stood off to the side during Yuuya's speeches, his parting words with his father and the other members of the Council. A group of seven men and women had been selected to accompany him on the long trip to Paris, and were engaged in similar and tearful goodbyes to loved ones and friends.

Baiken snorted. It looked like a funeral.

Despite her best efforts Yuuya spotted her, and at that point she had no choice but to come forward. She set her hand on her hip as she glanced about at the preparations. "So. Going by airship?" she asked brusquely.

"Eventually," he replied. "First we'll need to take a boat to Korea, and then a plane to Beijing. From there an airship."

"Well, watch yourself. It's the outside world, after all—not like what you're used to."

Yuuya regarded her silently a moment, his eyes almost lazy as if indulging in some daydream. Baiken knew exactly what must have drawn his attention, and she shoved him hard in the chest. "Stop that."

"I'll be careful," Yuuya replied belatedly, smiling. And then added, "I'm glad you came. I thought you still hated me."

"I do," Baiken snorted petulantly. "I just don't want you getting your sorry ass killed out there." She hesitated. "We've known each other a long time, after all."

"Since I was born."

"Right…" Baiken shook herself, and gave him another shove. "Go on—get out of here. You've got the entire Colony looking out for you, you don't need my blessing."

Yuuya smirked, and with a nod he turned to rejoin the rest of his convoy. Baiken stepped back. It was reasons like Yuuya that reminded her why she came back to the Colony as little as possible—there were too many people that knew her.

A hand came down on her shoulder, familiar enough that she shrugged him off instead of elbowed him in the gut. Chairman Murase looked just like his son when he smiled. "Baiken."

"Is this when you thank me for my insight and intellect?" she challenged, shooting him a pointed glare. "You finally realized I was right."

Murase's expression softened almost humbly. "I'm still praying that you're wrong," he replied. "About that man…"

Baiken frowned. "And?" He would not have approached her for idle talk.

The man straightened, the way people did when they were gathering their courage to ask a favor of her. She had seen that look many times. "While Yuuya is gone I want to keep the rest of the Colony focused and supportive. So I'm gathering an expedition team to go to the outside—to see what is left of our country, and if it can be made livable."

Baiken stared at him. Though it was clear what he was asking, part of her rebelled immediately; many years had passed since she'd crossed Japanese soil, and the thought of going back now was not at all appealing. But the man's serious eyes, the sincerity of his request made her realize just what she had put into motion with her careless warnings and complaints. Just as Anji had said, she wouldn't be able to distance herself now.

"I see." Baiken glanced away. "You want me with them."

"As you are so fond of pointing out to us, the outside world is very different from our peaceful Colony," Murase said. "And if you are right, there are many who would wish our people harm. I would trust no one more than you to protect them."

That time, Baiken had to laugh. "You're resorting to flattery, now, Murase? You must be pretty desperate."

She smirked at him, but when he returned her amusement with a steady gaze she faltered a little, and looked away. "Fine," she muttered. "I'll go with them. I didn't want to stick around here any longer, anyway."

It was Murase's turn to smile. "You have some time to prepare," he assured. "I'm afraid I can't let Mito go with you, though—the rest of the Council is still concerned about him."

Baiken waved her hand. "You don't have to explain—he's got nothing to do with me."

Murase lifted an eyebrow, but remained wisely silent on that subject. He nodded. "Someone will be sent when the expedition is ready," he assured. "And if you would, let Wakami know I'll be home for dinner tonight."

"Yeah, whatever." Baiken turned to leave. "But don't always think I'll be around to do your favors for you, Murase."

She took several steps, until when she glanced back she was sure Murase was no longer paying attention to her. She hesitated among the crowd to watch as Yuuya and his seven men and women began their long hike up the red planks of Anbashi Bridge. She sighed. "Kiske…you'd better make sure Paris listens to them," she muttered. With a shake of her head she started back towards the temple.

(((-0-)))

Another long and anxious carriage ride brought Ky to the Records and Communications building. Its upper floors served as information center to the city, and also as the formal seat of Paris's Global Council—from there Ky would communicate with his superiors and provincial governments all over the world. Despite the importance and significance of those functions, Ky was certain disabling Paris's communications was not the goal of their female spy. She most certainly would have headed for the basement.

Ky entered the underground floor of the facility with several officers, and one Holy Order veteran who had met with them along the way. He instructed them to take up a defensive position at the bottom of the narrow stairs; if the same woman was still present there was little chance they would be able help to a fight in such strict confines, but at least they could stall her from escape. With his arm roughly healed and brandishing Thunderseal, he started down the long hall to the last chambers.

At the end of the long white corridor was a fork, branching into two directions with a small circular room attached to each. Both rooms housed one of the famed Sacred Weapons kept by the United Nations. As he approached closer, he heard spark from the left fork, and the distressed hum of the guarding equipment. He quickly investigated.

As the reports had said, it was again the woman in red—standing up on her toes to remove a wide white mirror from its alcove in the wall. She was still wearing Ky's long mantle, and as she stepped back he finally took notice of the gleaming sapphire hanging at her hip. He ground his teeth. "So that's how you absorbed my magic."

I-no spun to face him, for a moment her face reflecting surprise before she could hide it. Then she smirked. "Officer Kiske. You got here awfully fast."

Ky remained in the doorway, watching her with strict attention as she wrapped the mirror up in his cloak and secured it to her back. "You came for Zappa," he said slowly, adjusting his grip on his weapon. "And now White Lake. What are you planning?"

"Oh, you know," I-no drawled, starting cautiously towards him. "A little this, a little that…"

"Who are you working for?" he demanded. "The Bureau?"

"The Bureau?" I-no echoed. She laughed, throwing her head back. "Don't you think if The Bureau wanted your little toys it would take them itself?"

Ky ground his teeth—after everything, being laughed at by this woman was nearly intolerable. "Then it's _him_," he growled, his hands tightening. "That man."

Some of the humor faded from I-no's smile, making her expression bitter. She drew her guitar and let it rest in one hand. "You're better off staying out of it, Kiske."

"I thought you might have known me better than that."

Ky released a bout of lightning, and as he expected it was swiftly absorbed by the jewel secured about her hip. I-no flinched but in the wake of the unsuccessful attack she charged. This time Ky faired somewhat better. Having caught a glimpse of her fighting style earlier he was better equipped to dodge her twisting kicks and limber attacks. He refused to open her path to the door. And when she turned, trying to distract him with another sonic attack from her hat his sword skated along her hip, severing the sapphire from her belt. It fell to the ground with a clatter; Ky kicked it swiftly out into the hall and far out of range to be useful.

I-no cursed, this time the uncertainty in her face obvious. Ky give his sword a flick to draw its power to full. "I'm sorry I can't go easy on you," he said darkly, "just because you're a woman."

I-no glowered at him. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Ky snorted, but just before he was able to unleash his magic I-no's guitar smashed brutally against the back of his neck. The savage attack threw him to his stomach and nearly robbed him of consciousness. With a pained groan he rolled onto his side, desperate to defend from whatever blow she might then throw at him. He was still wondering how she had managed such a strike while still standing in front of him when a second pair of red high heeled boots stepped into his line of sight. Though his gaze was swimming he lifted it to behold his unseen assailant. "Wha…?"

The mirror-bearing I-no regarded her twin with honest surprise. "I-no. I didn't expect to see you."

"I did," the second I-no said grimly. Ky could barely make her out above her knees—her tall boots were tattered and smelled of salt. "Take the mirror and go—"

"Why not tell her what'll happen?" another voice spoke up from somewhere out in the hall. It was familiar, and Ky shuddered as he tried to push himself up. "Then we won't have to go through all this trouble."

"Because that's not how it works. Chipp, grab the sapphire—we might need it."

Ky staggered to his feet, backing into the nearest wall so he could regain equilibrium. His ears had not been fooling him. The I-no he had been fighting was still within the chamber, looking as baffled as he felt, and together they stared down the bizarre trio at the room's entrance—another I-no, Venom, and Chipp Zanuff.

Chipp waved sheepishly, carrying I-no's sapphire in his other hand. "Um…hey, Ky. It's not what you think, really."

Ky stared, though his attention was drawn quickly to Venom. The man was no longer dressed in his Assassin's uniform, but rather a blue shirt and tie several sizes too big for him. He was regarding the officer with similar mistrust.

"Don't try to stop us," Venom warned.

"You…" Ky seethed, but unsteady as he was—and facing four formidable opponents—he kept himself from attacking all of them head on. "What the hell is going on?" he hissed. His hand trembled against the wall. "What do you want!"

"Ky, you have to trust us," Chipp started to explain. "We're—"

The worn I-no cut him off, swinging her guitar at the officer again. He blocked with Thunderseal but the force threw him back, and a moment later Venom followed by jabbing the blunt end of his pool cue into his solar plexus. Already heavy on his feet the sudden force dropped Ky again to his knees. It was all he could do to send a burst of lightning at the group to keep them back as he trembled, trying to draw air back into his lungs.

"Ky!" Chipp started toward him, but when Thunderseal sparked again he kept his distance. "Venom—you didn't have to hit him so hard!"

"Paybacks," Venom muttered coldly.

"Forget him—I-no, get out of here already," I-no told herself, tugging her into the hall. "Take it to him, and don't mention that you saw us."

"Well, I never could resist a pretty face…"

"Wai…" Ky coughed weakly, clinging to Thunderseal as he desperately reclaimed his composure. "Venom…!"

He lifted his head, only to be greeted with a deafening tone from I-no's guitar. Venom and Chipp each took her shoulder as the music reverberations blurred their figures, slurring them together. Ky threw another bolt of lightning at the trio but by then they had nearly faded, and it slid through them without effect. The last of them Ky saw was Chipp's guilty smile, and then they were gone.


	11. Chapter 10

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material. C&C appreciated!

Ah! It's been a while but I'm finally back to writing. This chapter stumped me for a while is why it took so long… Sorry about the wait!

As a warning, this chapter is…a very strong R rating. coughmansexcough. If you think it's too strong for this site just lemme know and I'll happily edit it a little. In case that happens, the unedited chapter will be available at my LJ and as well as my home page. In any case, I hope you like it. I'll try to update more regularly from now on.

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 10  
-

With all the commotion her double infiltration had caused that day, it wasn't until later that afternoon that I-no was finally able to shake all the officers off her tail. The mirror she had been charged to steal was still secured tightly to her back, though the loss of her sapphire put her on edge. But she trusted herself more than anyone, and if her future self thought she needed it more, she knew it was the truth.

As they had planned earlier, she met with Eddie and their "guest" in a long since shut down school in Paris's northern quarter—Ky and his officers would doubtlessly put their best efforts into searching the south, Paris' less virtuous district. She found them in an old classroom, Zato-1 seated on the teacher's desk with Eddie resting on his shoulder, Zappa seated in a leaking bean bag chair. The latter looked different than she remembered; more innocent, maybe. He watched her with wide, puppy-like eyes as she entered.

"Um…Miss I-no?" Zappa cleared his throat, glancing between her and the corpse. "I appreciate you breaking me out and everything, but…I was all right in there. Mr. Kiske was trying to help me…"

"What's the matter, lose your nerve?" I-no muttered, sauntering in. She untied the cloak from her body so she could remove the mirror, placing it into a cushioned satchel she had left in the room previously. It was better suited as a carrying case and allowed her to wear the mantle properly, warming her chilled skin.

"Well, you see, Miss…"

"He's possessed," Eddie spoke up, his red eyes blinking slowly. "As soon as we got out of there he became like this. The dog that helped you was a ghost."

I-no frowned, regarding the boy with a frown. "A ghost?" she repeated. She leaned forward, staring Zappa straight in the face—he blushed and tried to look away from the bare skin the movement revealed. "How can you tell?"

Zato-1's corpse lifted a hand, sliding back through his hair. "We know something about the dead," Eddie replied scathingly.

"Hmph. Is that so?"

"I think…he's right, Miss," Zappa said sheepishly. "Officer Kiske tells me he's seen all sorts of strange things happen to me while I'm unconscious."

I-no considered him a moment longer, then stepped back, seating herself at one of the desks. "A boy possessed by ghosts," she mused aloud. "And a mirror." There was also the matter of her future self showing up; on her way through the city she had caught some of the officers talking, and one reported that the second Sacred Weapon had been stolen as well. There was some connection, she was sure of it. Though why she would be dragging an assassin and an empty-headed karate master around was beyond her.

"Your boss really didn't tell you anything," Eddie surmised.

"No," she admitted. "But I don't mind—I love surprises." She smirked. "Hear that, Kid? You're coming back with me to meet my master."

"No."

I-no frowned, glancing over at the boy. She lifted an eyebrow. "Huh. Welcome back."

Zappa's face had gone pale again, much as he had looked when she first saw him. His eyes rolled over white. "He's not going anywhere," a voiced that was just recognizable as his hissed. "Not with a filthy whore like you."

Eddie glanced to her, amused and perhaps hoping for retaliation, but I-no only laughed—she had heard much worse. "Sorry, but you don't have a choice. My master wants very badly to meet you, and he doesn't deal well with disappointment."

"Fuck your master, and fuck you," Zappa hissed. "No one touches him."

The boy shuddered, and as I-no watched a shadow formed over his left shoulder—looking, for an instant, like a dark-haired woman leaning against him. He was getting more interesting all the time. "A female ghost," she chuckled. "I wouldn't have thought." She crossed her legs elegantly, flashing a bit of thigh. "Are you…jealous?"

Zappa hissed, which only made I-no laugh. "You don't have to worry about me," she assured. "I have no interest in a child. And my master is a man."

"Men are honorless dogs," Zappa spat, for a moment his eyes gleaming red. "Cock-driven lying thieving bastards, all of them. _No one_ touches him." The ghost's green and decomposed hand curled like a breath of smoke against Zappa's chin.

I-no's patience broke a little. "Listen Honey, you're coming back to China with me whether you like it or not. Got it?"

Zappa straightened, his eyes narrowing to half. He twisted his hand full around at the wrist, as if it were merely an idle habit. "You must do something for me."

"Something?"

"There's a man in Paris I want."

I-no frowned sharply. "I don't have time to be solving everyone's petty grudges," she muttered.

Eddie snorted off to her left. "You promised me Venom," he reminded her. "For helping in your fool stunt to begin with."

"And I want a man," Zappa insisted. "Or I go nowhere."

"All right!" I-no sighed in exasperation. She was beginning to wish her master had sent Raven along with her after all—this was turning out to be even more than she'd imagined, and that had been a lot. "Sure we've got Kiske and most of the global police after us now, but whatever makes you both happy. Christ." She rolled her eyes. "So who's this man you want dead?"

"Axl Low," Zappa answered instantly, giving a shudder. "I want him."

Eddie rose a little higher up on Zato-1's shoulder, looking almost curious. "From the Tournament?" He looked to I-no. "He was the one who kept me from killing Venom."

"So they're together." I-no relaxed into her seat, allowing a relieved grin to break across her features. "Well, then. That makes my job _much_ easier."

OoooooooooO  
-

Ky didn't let his healers keep him still for very long. They finished repairing the bite wounds on his arm, and kept his neck from bruising from I-no's guitar hit. But his head was still throbbing and his chest sore as he joined his men out in the field. They combed the city, turning out every known thieves den and questioning anyone with even the slightest criminal record. The citizens of Paris were more than happy to offer whatever information they had, which was admittedly very little, giving him only the barest idea of where I-no and her allies had fled. The thought that she might have been with Venom was making Ky furious, and soon even his officers were keeping their distance. Most of them had never seen their leader driven to such a state.

"Damnit!" Ky forced aside the man they'd been questioning—Paris's most notable snitch when it came to digging up information. In this case he had nothing to offer. "They didn't just disappear," Ky seethed, leaving the building. "If she could teleport that easily she wouldn't have had to break into both facilities in the first place."

"What about the items she stole?" one of the men suggested hesitantly. "Could she have used one of those?"

"No, they're not meant to be used that way. They _must_ still be in Paris!"

"Ky!" Bridget was pushing his way through the small crowd of officers, dressed back in his bounty hunting outfit, except with long sleeves and leggings to cover his skin in the chill air. He ran immediately up to Ky and grabbed his arm. "Is it true?" he asked briskly. "Zappa escaped from prison?"

Ky stared down at him. "Where did you hear that?" he demanded. "We haven't released any of that information yet."

Bridget gulped, made wary by Ky's harsh tone, but he held his ground. "I'm a bounty hunter," he replied. "I can get information, too, you know. Is it true?"

Ky sighed; he couldn't stay upset with Bridget watching him like that. "Yes, it's true. He escaped with a woman, and a former master of the Assassin's Guild."

Bridget's shoulders sagged in disappointment. "But…Zappa was nice to me," he said, trying to process what he was hearing. "Why would he do something like that?" He straightened. "Maybe he was kidnapped!"

"I'm sorry, Bridget, but I don't think that was the case at all." Ky touched the top of his head, managing a thin smile for him. "Don't worry about Zappa too much; we'll find him. Go on home."

"What about you?" Bridget insisted stubbornly. "We were out looking for Venom all last night—you should be getting some rest, too."

Ky shook his head. Behind him, his men exchanged sudden, almost hopeful glances. One of them stepped forward. "Sir, I think the young lady is right. There are plenty of men on this case. We'll notify you as soon as any leads are uncovered."

"That's not acceptable," Ky said immediately. "We are hunting some of the most dangerous criminals in the world. I have to be there when they're uncovered."

"None of us will act without you, sir," spoke up another officer.

"That's right, Sir Kiske. We're just looking out for your well being."

Ky started to protest again, but Bridget tugged his arm, drawing his attention back. "You should come back," he said, and if Ky had been in a better mood he might have found the boy's attempt at seriousness cute. "There's…someone who wants to talk to you."

Ky frowned, and when he glanced away he caught a glimpse of moving shadow atop the building he'd just exited. It left behind a feel of familiar magic. His eyes narrowed. "All right," he murmured distractedly. "I'll go home for the evening."

His officers sighed with relief, which he did not find entirely encouraging. He turned his attention to Bridget. "I think you should go home, too, Bridget. Stay with your brother for tonight. I'll look after myself, I promise."

Bridget frowned and shifted, clearly not liking the idea, but at last he gave in. "All right," he said quietly. "But you'll really go home?"

"You can escort me yourself," Ky offered. "We'll take my carriage, and then I'll have the driver drop you off." He took a step back. "I need only a moment to instruct my men."

Ky spoke with his captains, passing on his orders to continue the search and notify him at once if any new information was discovered. They assured him several times over that no action against the criminals would be carried out without him present, and that he would be kept well informed. Once Ky had their promises he finally relented to joining Bridget in the carriage for the long ride back to his home.

It was dark when they arrived, and the pair said their goodnights. Ky even thanked Bridget for thinking so hard on his well being, hiding the truth that he wasn't pleased about the interruption. But as the carriage departed, carrying Bridget to his family for the night, he was suddenly glad for the opportunity he'd been given. He glanced to the darkened roof. "I know you're there."

Testament hopped to the ground, his leather giving a quiet billow. He straightened. "I'm surprised he convinced you," he admitted. "I didn't think you would leave."

"I didn't want to." Ky started toward the house. "Come inside. I don't want anyone to see or overhear us."

Testament followed, though there was reluctance in his step that Ky didn't blame him for. He had no plans for a pleasant exchange. As soon as they were inside—and Thunderseal placed in its container—he turned to face the Gear with a steely expression. "Where is he?"

Testament met his gaze evenly, as if he had been anticipating this. "I said before I can't tell you."

"Something is going on," Ky said, wasting no time in raising his voice. "If Venom is working with that woman I-no, it means he's probably also working for the man who created Gears!"

"That doesn't make any sense," Testament tried to reason with him, maintaining his composure. "Bridget and I heard that the woman was working with Eddie. He and Venom just tried to kill each other—would they really be working together under one master?"

"I have no idea how the mind of a criminal works," Ky snorted. "All I know is I-no used Eddie to break into _my_ headquarters, and then another used Venom to break into the R&C building."

Testament frowned. "'Another' I-no?"

Ky sighed; exhaustion was making his anger difficult to hold onto. "There were two," he explained. "In the same place at once, showing up a few minutes apart. They seemed to know each other."

"Twins?" Testament suggested. "If there's more than one, that makes more sense than if Eddie and Venom are working together again."

Ky nodded, though when he realized how the subject had changed he scoffed. "That's beside the point," he told the Gear, glaring him down again. "Whatever's going on, these criminals have already killed three men and injured several of my officers—_my_ men, Testament, my comrades. And _you_ know where they are."

"The man has done nothing against me," Testament replied. Strain was beginning to show in his face. "When I decided not to kill humans I didn't mean only the ones I like."

Ky stiffened, glaring at him now as if having been somehow insulted. "Are you saying," he asked sternly, "that the head of an _assassin's_ guild should not be brought to justice?"

"I'm saying I don't want you to kill him without listening to his story."

Ky's hands clenched. "I can't promise that."

"And why not?" This time it was Testament's voice that pitched sharply. "I'm only asking that you give him the chance I gave you."

That stopped Ky's arguments for a moment as the words sunk into him. His face twitched as he tried to generate a response. "Why are you doing this?" he asked at last. "You don't know him. It shouldn't make any difference to you whether we capture him or not. If this is some attempt of yours to teach me a lesson, you've picked the wrong time for it."

He met Testament's gaze, and knew he was right; the Gear shifted anxiously and lowered his eyes. It was a victory, but not one Ky could be proud of. Whatever game Testament was playing, he was putting it above his soldiers and his order, above the safety of the city he had been charged to protect. It was unacceptable, but it was starting to make him realize that the other thought it important. And he was starting to feel vaguely ill.

"Ky…." Testament shook his head. "I went back to the house I left Venom at earlier today," he confessed at last. "A small healer's hut in the south. And I didn't find him there."

Ky remained still, staring. "He was gone."

"Yes. I didn't even find the healer." He took a step closer. "Do you understand, Ky? I know this is important to you. No matter how good a healer, Venom shouldn't be able to move right now with the injuries he sustained, let alone do anyone harm. I always planned to go back for him, to…hear his side, so when Bridget and I heard about what happened I checked for myself."

Ky's shoulders drooped; he didn't know what he was supposed to think about that. "And you were wrong," he said quietly. "The Venom I saw today could move just fine."

"I'm not lying," Testament immediately defended himself. "I was with him—he was badly injured."

"No, I…" Ky sighed. "I believe you," he admitted, growing too weary to continue their verbal bout. He turned, heading further into the house. "Two I-nos, two Venoms…? And Chipp Zanuff…" He rubbed at his eyes. "None of this makes any sense."

Slow footsteps followed him into the kitchen, but Ky ignored the other for a while as he removed his gloves and began to prepare himself the tea he had neglected that morning. It wasn't until then that he realized his hands were shaking a little, and he swore.

Testament watched him from the counter. "Ky."

"Where are they coming from?" Ky muttered in half-hearted anger. "We're the Global Police. We're supposed to be able to deal with these things. Beasts and criminals and magicians." He selected a brand of bitter oriental tea that usually helped to calm his nerves. "And now all manner of madmen are running free in my city. This is our time for freedom! Do they care nothing for all we've fought for? Men and women gave their lives to free _everyone_ from Justice, even them! And yet now they…"

Ky paused, his eyes thinning as he drew down the tea cup he had instinctually reached for; a small Italian style cup decorated with green, hand-painted Corsican roses. He licked his lips.

"Ky?" Testament ventured closer now that he had grown quiet. He stared down at the object in his hand. "I thought you didn't use your tea cups."

"Not all of them, but these…" Ky reached into the cupboard to pull down the second cup and saucers that went with them. He brushed his fingers over the designs. "I wish you wouldn't move around the city so much," he murmured in an abrupt change of subject.

Testament's expression softened. "No one will see me."

"But if someone did…" Ky set the cup down as he turned to face Testament. His chest tightened a little. "There's already so much going on, if anyone found out there was a Gear involved as well, there'd be chaos!"

"And you wouldn't be able to protect me," Testament filled in.

"Yes…" Ky shook his head. "You shouldn't have come," he said quietly, tearing the words from some deep, shameful part of him. He didn't know if they were true or not, but they hurt to speak. "It's insane, isn't it? That either of us thought we…."

Testament was watching him very closely now, and the weight of his eyes was making Ky nervous. "Thought we what?" he prompted.

Ky licked his lips, stalling. "You've seen what it's like," he muttered, turning away to keep his water from boiling over. He poured two cups and added the tea bags. "Even when it's not a holiday I don't have a moment's rest. These people are depending on me. I haven't even had a regular lover in years, let alone—"

"Is that what we are now?" Testament interrupted him. "Lovers?"

"I…" Again Ky faltered, stirring his tea with greater agitation than was necessary. "No. Of course not—it was one night. Neither of us was in any kind of state of mind to–"

He broke off when he happened to glance back, catching the expression Testament was fixing him with. He gulped. "That is–"

"I'm not a fool, Ky," Testament told him, his gaze even. "I was there–I know what happened." He took another small step forward, so that the leather from his clothing swayed, and brushed against Ky's knee when he stopped. "And we both know it wasn't just about one night. I wouldn't have come this far if it were."

Ky's shoulders drooped. "I know," he admitted quietly. "But it doesn't mean I know what to do about it."

Testament watched him. He hadn't appeared nervous before, but now he seemed to be getting there. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked simply.

"No...that's not what I want."

"All right, then."

They were both still a moment, not meeting each other's eyes, as awkward as teenagers. Abruptly Testament's expression broke in a weary smile. "Maybe we're both fools after all."

Ky lifted his head, but before he could question Testament leaned down to meet his lips in a kiss. It was brief, and when Ky was released he sighed quietly. "Maybe," he agreed.

They kissed again, and for a moment Ky felt a flicker of warmth he remembered from the beach so many months ago. From the morning when he awoke to find Testament's face too close to his own. Whatever they had done in their time shared in Sardinia to understand and console each other, whether or not their sympathy had been genuine, there was no mistaking the thrill of simple attraction. As an officer Ky hated to admit that he could be swayed by something so base. But there were only so many nights he could spend alone.

When Testament slid closer Ky welcomed him fully this time, twisting his arms around the Gear's steady shoulders. Testament must have been feeling the same as he was; though his affections were hesitant, Ky could sense the tension of excitement he was trying to hide. They kissed, Ky's back pressed to the counter top, until a quiet clatter drew their attention. When warm liquid splashed over Testament's fingers he pulled Ky back to spare his uniform from staining.

Ky twisted, still caught up in Testament's arms, to see what had happened–one of the tea cups had spilled off its saucer and emptied its contents across his counter. He quickly checked the cup for blemishes and was relieved to find it perfectly fine. He sighed as he righted it and started to reach for a towel. "I've been trying to drink this tea all day," he murmured in good humor.

Testament drew him away from his attempt to clean the mess. "It can wait a while longer."

By then the coaxing wasn't necessary, as Ky was already giving in. His better sense was warning him against it, and he wondered briefly if he should have been ashamed that defying it was so satisfying. He wasn't the kind of man that came home from work to a companion. Even if he and Testament were only pretending to share a relationship, for now the distraction was welcomed.

Testament tugged him out of the kitchen, but they didn't make it as far as the stairs. Ky stopped him by the sofa–if they were going to be spontaneous about this, they might as well have gone all out.

Ky reached out, beginning to undo the myriad of buckles that made up Testament's outfit. When he had a good enough idea of what he was doing that he didn't have to look, he tilted his head up for a kiss, which the other eagerly reciprocated. Ky pulled back with a quiet sigh. "In the morning," he told Testament softly, "you're going to take me to that healer's house."

Testament's posture sagged a little, his hands stilling where they had lifted for Ky's fastenings. "It means that much to you," he murmured.

"It's my city, and my duty. It means everything to me." Ky met the Gear's eyes seriously. "But if you want to talk to him before he's put to death–to 'hear his story'–I'll allow it."

Testament watched him silently for a moment, unmoving even when the leather around his waist loosened and slipped to the ground. Finally he nodded. "All right. I will." He returned to freeing Ky of his thick belt.

"This isn't about you," Ky tried to assure him as he loosened the fabric around Testament's chest and shoulders, letting it fall as well. "You can think me a hypocrite if you want. But whatever the circumstances Venom still works for the Guild, and therefore the Bureau. I can't afford to lose him now."

"Ky." Testament touched his chin, tilting Ky's face up. His red eyes gleamed seriously in the dark. "You were wrong about me," he reminded the officer evenly.

Ky stared back at him, and with a sigh finally relented. "All right," he begrudgingly murmured, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "I'll...listen to his story myself. _Then_ we'll decide what should be done with him."

"That's all I wanted to hear."

Testament kissed him firmly, making Ky's toes curl. They tried to take their time; relieving each other of their clothing, exploring the patches of uncovered skin with curious hands and lips. They had only known each other like this once before, in a moment of youthful desperation, and that memory rose in Ky so vividly now that his heart pounded against his ears and make his lips tingle as he sought another kiss. Testament's body was warm with old magic, and it attracted Ky in a way that only magic ever could. As if reaching into his instinct, urging him on.

Despite the tenuous beginnings, once the last articles of clothing were scattered across Ky's small living room the pair gave in to several months of guilty imaginations. They paused only to fetch a decent enough bottle from the kitchen with which to ease the reunion. And then Testament was turning the officer about, urging him to kneel on the sofa with his chest facing its tall, cushioned back.

Ky's breath hissed quietly as he braced himself, Testament slipping up behind him. "I don't know if my furniture can take this," he confessed. His concern was quickly forgotten when Testament's chest, already warm and moist with sweat, pressed up against his back. It had been a long time since he had allowed another man to take him like this. The gentle brush of soft black hair against his shoulders, of smooth, strong hands feathering over his hips and between his legs, made his heart jump.

"You can buy new furniture," Testament replied, plying him gently with oil-slick fingertips. Breathless with want he carefully positioned himself, and Ky arched his back, anticipating his next action.

He knew it was going to hurt, and it did—his hands clenched around the sofa back hard enough to make the wood creak in complaint as muscle stretched. But the pain only made it more real, filling him with relief that this was no mere dream of his. For that, he could bare to be sore afterwards.

Testament was a very different lover than Ky had been for him. Using the sofa back as leverage each movement of his body against Ky's was smooth, even, and powerful. Ky wasn't used to such controlled strength moving through him, and he was soon trembling, whispers of pleasure seeping from his parted lips. Testament mouth fumbled wetly against the side of his neck in crude, breathless kisses. Every firm thrust of the Gear's hips seemed to scrape the entire length of their bodies together; Testament's heaving chest to Ky's arched shoulders, tightened abdomen to the small of his back, quivering thighs to the backs of his legs. Never idle in his lovemaking Ky pushed back against him every time, strongly, doing his best to match the unfamiliar but captivatingly steady pace.

Ky would tell himself later that, had he not been weary from his trials that day, he would have held out longer—if only to enjoy the press of toned muscle against his back a few moments more. His climax had built with such relative gradualness that by the time it swept over him, he had long awaited the deep, pulsing waves of mind-numbing sensation. His body tightened with a slight twinge of pain around Testament's yet buried flesh. A moment later Testament's arms wound around his chest as he, too, gave in to release. Their joined, hoarse voices echoed in the darkened room.

Ky licked his lips around long gulps of needed air. He would have slumped forward over the sofa if not for Testament's arms around him—he always devoted himself so fully to his intercourse that it left him exhausted afterwards. When Testament pulled carefully out of him he turned, resting against his side so he could see the Gear's face.

Testament was still breathing hard himself. His usually immaculate hair stuck slightly to his face and neck from his sweat, his pale skin flushed. The sight of him made Ky's eyes widen a little in appreciation, and though he intended some remark he found himself craning his head for a kiss instead. Testament smiled against his mouth.

"You're a very…vigorous lover, Ky Kiske," the Gear murmured.

Ky chuckled. Fatigue and euphoria were making him light-headed, and he stayed a moment longer at Testament's lips, pretending, for a while, that this was all that mattered. "I have to make each time count," he replied. But as they both calmed their setting and situation returned to him. "Testament…" He sighed. "I'm sorry I hit you this morning."

Testament was quiet a moment, and then he slid a hand up Ky's back, curling gently against the back of his neck. "It's all right. Just try to remember, Ky, you can't be responsible for everything that goes wrong. I know it's hard on you. But you can't make everything right by yourself."

"I can try. Someone has to."

"You're too hard on yourself."

"Maybe." Ky took a deep breath, finally urging Testament back so he could push carefully to his feet. "But I can't help it. It's just something I have to do." Once upright he paused to stretch, interrupting their serious conversation a moment. He winced a little at the sting in his lower back. "It really has been a while."

Testament stood as well, seemingly content to end the discussion for now. "You're going to be exhausted tomorrow. Let's go to bed."

Ky nodded, allowing Testament to lead the way up to the second floor. Another night of passion and he still didn't really understand where that left them. As they settled into bed together he decided it best not to worry about it now—there would be plenty to occupy them come morning.

As Testament had promised, the next day he led Ky through the city to the white house on Rue Beaubourg. The sun had not even risen yet as Ky burst through the tall door and into the moderately furnished household. There were unwashed dishes in the sink. But the bed had not been slept in, and there was no trace of anyone inside. No tall, bag-wearing doctor, no long-haired assassin. Testament had been right—they were gone.


	12. Chapter 11

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

OMG throw in some more characters right now AHHHHH!

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 11

"'Paris authorities still have no leads as to the whereabouts of the criminals,'" Axl read aloud as he walked. In one hand he was holding up the morning paper, in the other a mug of fresh coffee, and was doing his best to keep both balanced. "'However, they would like to assure residents that it is very likely they have already left the city, and there is no need for concern as to…' Heh. Hear that? We've already left."

Axl stepped through the doorway at the hall's end, chuckling to himself. He had to admit, despite being one crazy bastard that Dr. Faust sure knew what he was doing. Even his secret passages had secret passages. Just after hearing of the raid on the Police Headquarters, he had hidden Venom and Axl in the deepest of his many chambers. And just in time—with the police out in the streets at full force many unsavory guests showed up seeking refuge, none of which would be glad to hear the head of the former Assassin's Guild himself was among them. Faust took them in graciously. It may not have said much for his morals, but it spoke volumes of his charity.

Venom glanced up. Though his color had greatly improved, Axl was still surprised to find him on his feet, calmly buttoning up a pale blue shirt. "Hey…are you all right?" Axl asked with some concern as he set the paper aside. "Should you really be up?"

"It's been three days," Venom replied simply, running his hand over the gifted shirt. It was too large for him—he'd had to depend on Faust's wardrobe for it—but anything might have been better compared to the hospital gown. "I'm not fully healed but I can't stay put any longer."

Axl frowned. Though he had noticed how restless Venom had been lately, he wasn't looking forward to what came next: his decision. For three days he had lain hidden beneath Paris's streets with Venom, Faust, and his patients—even helped out when he could, in exchange for having a place to stay. He often wondered if that fact alone likened him to the rest. He knew that Kiske would likely skewer him if they met up again, but so far he hadn't done anything…terribly wrong, other than keep his mouth shut. But now, Venom was leaving.

"So…" Axl took a sip from his coffee, stalling. "Where'ya going?"

Venom looked over the tie Faust had left him, and after a moment's consideration tugged it around his neck. "I'm not sure. Out of Paris, for now. After that…."

"It won't be easy leaving the city. The paper says they've put up roadblocks and checkpoints and—"

"I'll find a way."

"Oh." Axl's frown deepened as he sat himself down in an old wooden chair by the wall. "Yeah…"

Venom glanced at him, one bright blue eye just barely visible through his long, pale hair. "Are you still thinking about it?" he asked plainly. "About what you told me before—that we met for a reason. You haven't figure out yet if that's true or not."

Axl smiled sheepishly. "Well, not really," he confessed, pausing for another long sip. "I mean, it's probably nothing. I time slip all the time. And even if there was a reason, maybe I fulfilled it already. I saved your life, after all."

Venom smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt, his fingers pausing briefly where the baggy material hid his bandages. "I'll find a way to repay you for that," he murmured.

"Yeah?" Axl leaned back with a grin. "And here I thought you were gonna hold it against me."

The lines around Venom's mouth twitched, making Axl wonder, for a moment, if he might have actually seen the man smile. "I still might."

Axl rolled his eyes in good humor, but before he could comment Venom took a step closer, watching him closely. "If Kiske and his officers spot you, you'll be arrested," he told him seriously. "And if he thinks you have anything to do with me, his interrogation will be severe. That's the kind of man Kiske is."

Axl made a face. "That's kind of funny, coming from a hired hit man," he teased.

Venom snorted lightly. "You need to leave this city just as much as I do," he continued. "But you don't know it as well, do you? Not enough to get through police blockades without being seen."

"Are you saying," Axl asked slowly, "that I should come with you?"

Venom leaned back, appearing oddly guilty as if Axl had caught him in some secret. "For both our sakes. You need a safe path out of Paris, and…I'm still not completely healed."

"Ahh, so you need me."

"I didn't say that."

Axl smirked. He wasn't sure why, but he was starting to think that maybe Venom really wasn't such a bad guy. Whatever his profession. "Well, putting it that way, it does make sense." He stood, and gave Venom's hand an enthusiastic shake. "Looks like you're stuck with me a while longer, chap. Don't regret it!"

Venom stared down at their clasped hands, and after a moment returned Axl's friendly squeeze. "Welcome to being a criminal accomplice, Mr. Low," he replied before turning away to look for a hair brush.

"Accomplice…?" Axl sighed. It seemed he'd gotten himself in pretty deep this time. "Whatever you say…"

* * *

This time, it was cheap Chinese food. 

Despite his many travels, Sol had not been to this part of the world for several years or even decades. He was never very adept at keeping track. However long it had been, this particular "best food in the city" restaurant had not existed back then. He would have remembered a place built in the hollowed out husk of a dragon. Dragons were tricky creatures; you couldn't really kill one like a normal animal, and they didn't exactly decay, either. As one of the patrons had explained it to him, this particular dragon had a habit of coming back to life every few weeks. It made for quite a spectacle when the owner had to kill it again.

It didn't seem that Sol was going to have the pleasure of witnessing that event this time, which was fine with him. He was perfectly content eating his spicy beef without incident. And it was good beef, too; though he had grown sick of people insisting to him that it was the best diner in China, he had to admit they might not have been wrong. He was already planning on ordering seconds.

There were times when even Sol thought about the past, things so far back in his memory he could barely recall in so different a world. Every once in a while some half-recalled sensation at the back of his brain would stir, driving him to seek out an icon of nostalgic indulgence. This time, it had been cheap Chinese food. Vaguely Sol remembered the musty smell of an old apartment, the gentle scraping wooden chopsticks against a paper carton, the taste of overcooked rice and too much MSG. People didn't make food like that anymore, and his meal now was nothing like the soggy, $3.99 half servings of his youth. The beef was just too damn good.

Sol's idle musing was interrupted by the shrill laughter of a woman several tables away. It was the restaurant's owner, Kuradoberi Jam. Though normally an owner wouldn't be out waiting tables in such a way, in this case it was a clever business decision—the young woman was gaining as much attention from her customers as her world-renowned food. The outfit did wonders for her body, all smooth red silk with shimmering gold trim. The style was reminiscent of a traditional Chinese formal dress, though the skirt was cut up nearly to her butt, and the chest area was cut with slits to reveal her rather impressive cleavage.

It was the tone of her body that drew Sol's attention more than anything. Despite her slim build her thighs and calves were well muscled, like those of an athlete. Her shoulders, too, didn't have the delicate slope of the local young woman her age. She was strong, and she carried herself with precise, light-footed balance.

Sol was beginning to wonder if he'd met her somewhere before when she leaned forward to collect the men's plates. Red silk climbed tauntingly up the backs of her thighs. Had she bent a few degrees more, Sol was sure he would have been seeing goods. His thoughts then shifted to whether or not he could get her into bed without her opening her mouth.

Jam carried her load of dishes off to the kitchen, not noticing Sol's eyes on her. Once she was out of sight he glanced away, and with his senses returned he was able to make out the sound of an airship flying overhead.

* * *

Johnny was still adjusting his coat over his shoulders as he stepped briskly onto _Mayship_'s bridge, a few of the younger crewmates following along behind. He had been engaged in his usual afternoon practice above the ship when a spot on the horizon caught his eye, cutting the exercise short. "What is it?" he asked as he came up behind May. She was standing next to April at the helm, both girls staring fixedly ahead through the viewing glass. "Some kind of merchant ship?" 

"Looks like it," May replied, arms folded, for a moment looking genuinely captainly. "Kinda puny, though."

"Its heading is due west," reported one of the bridge hands. "At that size it's got to be local—Korean, maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe." May gave an exaggerated sigh. "Local ships never carry good cargo. Probably not even worth it to board them."

Johnny shrugged behind her. "If it's another salvage ship, they might have some valuable artifacts. They could have stored them on a smaller ship to throw off…us."

"Maybe, but we're going to need to land soon to refuel—don't wanna cause too much trouble before then, or—"

"Captain!" Feby leaned over her station, pointing through the window. "Something's approaching the ship!"

"What?" May held out her hand, and was obediently given April's telescope. Something small and dark was flying straight up from the city, a vertical smear against blue sky as it rocketed toward the small merchant ship. "What _is_ that? It doesn't look like a missile…."

Johnny took off his shades so he could squint through the glass. It wasn't a missile—magic or otherwise, as far as he could tell. But it was moving awfully fast to be anything else. The crew watched, puzzled and silent, until whatever it had been struck the bottom of the airship hull with a spectacular impact. There was no explosion, no fire, but as they stared the Korean ship began to waver in its flight, and slowly began to dip to port.

"Whatever it is, it's bringing that ship down," Johnny muttered gravely. "Right on top of Beijing."

"April, adjust course to intercept," May instructed suddenly, jostling her crew back to life. She pushed her telescope into Johnny's stomach, and he instinctually accepted. "Get word to Novere to drop the tow lines."

April turned the ship as asked. "A rescue mission, eh Captain?"

"Rescue?" May scoffed. She grinned as she folded her arms once more. "Sure, we'll help'm down safely. And then I'll accept all the thanks they have to offer."

The girls cheered their enthusiastic approval and scurried about to do their part of the new mission. Johnny, meanwhile, was studying the hull of the merchant ship with May's telescope. There were jagged tears in the metal exterior from whatever had attacked them, unlike any anti-aircraft armament he'd ever seen. As he continued to watch, something crawled out of the metal craters and began to climb onto the wing.

"July, I want you heading the boarding team," May was saying, adjusting her great orange hat. "Take Augst with—"

"No," Johnny quickly interrupted. He set the telescope aside and replaced his glasses. "May, leave this to me. There's something not right about this."

May glanced up, and the serious tone in his voice made her think twice about complaining too seriously. "They won't stay airborne for long with that hole in them."

"Don't worry—I'll take care of it." Johnny turned, striding quickly from the bridge. "Just keep her steady, April!"

"Aye, sir!"

Johnny could feel May's eyes on him as he left, but he didn't pause or glance back. He trusted his instincts, and what he felt now was telling him he didn't want any of his girls on that ship. There were only so many living things that could shoot several hundred feet straight up into the sky.

He turned a corner, and nearly ran straight into Dizzy. She jumped, her wings giving an anxious flutter. "Johnny! What's going on? I thought I heard a crash."

"Dizzy, good. I might need your help." Johnny took her gently by the arm, guiding her down the hall with him. "It looks like a Koran merchant ship is under attack, and we're going to give them a hand. I need you to help me connect the tow lines."

"Johnny, I've never helped board a ship before," Dizzy replied nervously.

"I know. Don't worry, you'll do fine." They came to the belly of the ship where Novere was already waiting for them, crouched in front of the mechanical controls for _Mayship_'s wire tow lines. "It's just us," Johnny told her. "Keep an eye on us, okay?"

Novere frowned, but nodded. "Aye, sir."

Johnny twisted the hatch open, and Dizzy gave a gasp of surprise as harsh, cool air whipped into the cabin and sent her hair fluttering. She quickly tightened her ribbons as Johnny secured the metal door. Slowly, the top of the unknown ship came into their small, circular view. The gash Johnny had witnessed from the bridge had lengthened along the left side of the airship's hull, but the engines were still running evenly. At the moment he could see no trace of whatever might have caused the clean edges of torn steel.

"Just a little more!" one of Novere's helpers alerted the bridge crew through the wall-mounted radio. "A little more…all right! We're on'em!"

Johnny set a hand on his hat to keep it still as he peered through the open hatch. Still no sign of any real trouble, but there was still that uneasy hollow in his stomach, a prickle along his spine that had never been wrong before. He straightened so he could face Dizzy directly.

"I need you to connect the tow lines," he told her seriously. "You'll see four come down from _Mayship_, each with metal docking clamps. This is a UN approved airship, so it should have thick handles along the hull—attach the clamps to those. Got it?"

Dizzy listened with wide eyes. "Y-Yes! You can count on me, Johnny."

Johnny's lips quirked in a grin. "That's my girl. Leave everything else to me."

Before Dizzy could ask what else there might have been, Johnny leapt through the circular opening. He had done this a hundred times before, and he landed easily on the hull of the failing ship. The scored soles of his shoes helped to keep him from sliding along the polished metal surface. Dizzy's landing was not quite as graceful; her wings fluttered nervously as she dropped towards him, catching the wind and nearly getting her thrown from the ship. Johnny was quick to grab her hand and draw her in.

"Keep those folded," he advised, giving her a smile in hopes of calming her.

Dizzy smiled, though she was still clearly nervous—her tail was twisting in little circles behind her. "I'm all right."

"Good." Johnny looked up, and when he heard the metal docking clamps clang against the ship's hull, he signaled to Novere that enough wire had been lowered. He pointed them out to Dizzy. "Go ahead—you'll do fine."

Dizzy nodded, assuring herself as much as Johnny, and he let her go so she could start her task. He watched, making sure she was able to move easily enough across the ship. She was careful this time to keep her wings tightly pressed against her back. Relieved, Johnny crouched down to investigate the ship's unusual injury.

Magic had been involved. Johnny had never experienced training in that particular discipline but it was clear no normal living creature or weapon could have cut so cleanly through the thick layers of metal alloy. There was even a strange aura about the opening, if he were truly capable of detecting such things. The sheered edges were cool to the touch.

He had been expecting an attack, but when it came it was not from the already existing holes to the cabin. The metal beneath him was suddenly shredded, ripped apart like so much crude paper. He rolled but there hadn't been enough warning, and he grimaced as something cold and sharp cut gashes along the back of his thigh. His coat flapped about him madly, deafening him, and then he was on his feet again.

"Johnny!" Dizzy stepped away from the cable she'd been fastening, toward him.

"Stay back!" Johnny called, shifting his weight off his injured leg. It felt as if the wind was clawing into the wounds, flinging his blood out into open air. He couldn't tell how serious it was with the whole limb throbbing with every beat of his heart. But he could feel the leg of his trousers slowly becoming soaked, and a quick test showed him he wouldn't be able to bend his knee very well. He cursed.

Sticking out of the ship's hull was the afflicting weapon: a broad hand tipped with long, dark talons. Johnny drew his sword from the sheath at his back as the creature began to claw its way free. Its sharpened nails made easy work of the steel, peeling it back like the lid of a can. Gradually Johnny was granted more views of long, pale violet limbs with thick musculature, and finally a head of long, silvery hair.

"Johnny…."

"Keep attaching the cables!" he told Dizzy firmly. "Don't worry about me!"

The creature laughed, a low, unnatural sound that somehow projected clearly over the wind. With a hop the entity pulled itself out of the cabin fully, exposing its entire form to the baffled pirates.

Johnny had seen his share of Gears, but nothing like this; he stood at least seven feet tall, all long limbs and toned muscle wrapped in what could have either been leather-like violet fabric, or else merely layers of skin meant to look the part. There were wraps around his wrists and spikes protruding from his arms, shoulders, and an especially thick pike seemed to have been thrust through his skull and out his forehead. His hair stretched out his full height behind him, carried by the wind.

Johnny whistled. "What a unique little snowflake we have here."

Raven smirked, for the moment making no move against him. "My my, the Jellyfish Pirates. I hadn't expected this."

"We're full of surprises," Johnny replied, adjusting his grip on his katana. His gaze flickered to the other side of the ship, where Dizzy had finished with the second clamp. But in order to get to the final two she would have to pass the…whatever it was he was staring down now. "I wouldn't recommend making my captain angry."

"Your captain?" Raven grinned, showing off pointed fangs. "Ahh, May-chan. How is the little firestarter?"

Johnny paled. "What did you just say?"

The creature attacked without warning, crossing the distance between him and Johnny in a matter of seconds. The sharpened claws that had torn his thigh came rushing forward in a blur that he managed to fend off with a swing of his katana. As Raven bore down on him he was forced to step back. Even the small step, the shift of weight, caused his leg to burn as he fought to keep his balance. His blade cut a deep incision across Raven's palm when he reached for him again but that didn't stop the creature; he was being driven toward the end of the ship.

"What are you?" Johnny braced himself, and when Raven lunged again he dodged to the side and rolled. From there he stayed on one knee, sword sheathed and ready for when the next attack came. "Why are you here—how do you know May?" he demanded.

"I told you—I didn't expect to find competition here." Raven tapped his foot against the ship, then started forward again. "I came for them. But if I can take both your ships down while I'm here, I won't complain."

"You'll have to get through me, first," Johnny threatened, glaring at the creature from under the brim of his hat. "I won't make it easy for you, Gear."

"Gear?" Raven laughed again, harder than before. "You have no idea what you're dealing with."

He took another step closer, and Johnny sprung at him. Forcing all his strength into his uninjured right leg he propelled himself up off his knee, his katana leaping from its sheath faster than even he could have followed with his naked eye. The blade caught in the soft tissue of Raven's unguarded side. Johnny dropped his sheath to add a second hand to the back of the sword, forcing it up through Raven's insides, just below the curve of his ribs. He didn't stop until he felt the sword catch between Raven's spine and sternum; no amount of force could sever his bone. Hot, black blood flowed back over his fingers.

* * *

It was the commotion on the street that finally drove Sol outside, joining several other customers and the restaurant's curious owner. It was two airships now, flying piggyback high over the city. When he squinted against the sun he was able to make out an insignia on the larger ship that was all too familiar. 

"Damn pirates," Jam muttered next to him. He had to strain a little to understand her through her accent—he hadn't been in China for a long time, and his language skills were rusty. "That ship is half their size! Can't be anything worth stealing on the poor thing."

Sol snorted. He didn't really care either way, but watching the pair of ships he suddenly couldn't shake an odd premonition. "They're losing altitude," he observed. "That's strange. The Jellyfish should have gutted it by now."

"They're coming down? _Great_." Jam whistled, and Sol winced at how close it was to his ear. One of her workers came trotting up only to get her serving tray shoved into his stomach. "Take care of the customers," she instructed. "I'm goin' after them."

Sol glared at her doubtfully. "They're in the air," he reminded, indicating with his finger.

"You just said they were comin' down, din't ya?" Jam retorted, already beginning to stretch. When she noticed Sol watching her preparations with a little too much interest she made a face at him and snapped upright. "Go back inside and pay for your beef, stranger. But the last time we had strange folk in this town, I nearly lost my restaurant! No more robots, pirates, or whatever the hell else!"

Jam stuck out her tongue at him, and then turned to start running in the direction the pair of ships was slowly descending towards. Sol rolled his eyes. He really didn't need this kind of drama, just when he was starting to feel better. But he couldn't help that uneasy feeling in his stomach, and he had to admit, anyone who could serve food that good didn't deserve to get ripped to ribbons by whatever the hell was taking those ships down.

"Minding my own business," Sol muttered as he started after her. "Always when I'm minding my own goddamn business…."


	13. Chapter 12

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

After writing this chapter I realized…this is probably about the midway point, or maybe a little before. I thought TF would be a lot longer than Culmination was, but I guess it won't be after all. Unless I get attacked by plot bunnies… .

Though there's going to be a lot of fighting, so that'll probably stretch it out, too.

ANWAY, thanks again to all my lovely readers and reviewers. Like someone pointed out to me recently, I've been at this for at least a year now. Thanks for sticking with me!

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 12

Johnny hadn't really expected that even his _iaido_ would be enough to stop the beast he was facing, but he had hoped it would at least slow him down. When thick blood spilled down the length of his sword to his hands he felt, for a moment, a thrill of accomplishment. As long as he stayed on the offensive, he could buy Dizzy enough time to finish the clamps and maybe even throw Raven overboard. Which probably wouldn't have stopped him, either, but at least then they could regroup and think of a better way to fight the thing.

Those brief plans were quickly dashed by the time he'd made them. No sooner than Johnny's sword caught, the tissue he'd sliced to get there was already beginning to close over. Raven's low laughter rumbled in Johnny's ears just before he felt a thick hand wrap around his throat. It only took the slightest effort from the creature to cut off his air. Already light-headed from blood loss his struggles were weak as he pawed at the thick fingers.

"Johnny!"

Johnny's gaze darted toward the voice. Though his sight was thin he could make out Dizzy on the other end of the ship. He tried to call a warning. But as he watched Dizzy's black wing began to grow, stretching out beside her and seemingly unaffected by the wind. It was forming the shape of a man. He could discern no specific features, other than a long dark cloak, a hood…and what might have been a curved, glowing bow.

Johnny didn't see the projectile hit, but he could feel its heat against his fingers. Raven was wrenched bodily away from him—his sword came free, and one of the dark talons drew a shallow gash along Johnny's jaw as his grip was broken as well. With a startled yelp Johnny dropped to the hull, and glanced up just in time to see his opponent being thrown onto the airship's wing.

"Johnny!" Dizzy dropped down beside him, helping him to sit up. Her warm hand against his face quickly healed the fresh incision. "Are you all right?" she asked fearfully, her eyes darting among the streaks of blood his thigh had spread across the ship. It looked pretty gruesome, even to him.

"Heh. Looks like I lost more than I thought…" Johnny hissed as Dizzy's hands sought out his wounded thigh, slowly closing the wounds. Even though the pain was fading he felt nauseous and uneasy. "I'm all right," he assured Dizzy anyway. "Where is he?"

He spotted Raven before Dizzy had the chance to point him out; Raven was crouched near the tip of the merchant ship's port wing, pulling what looked like a long, red arrow out of his side. It disintegrated once it was free. He turned his gleaming eyes on Dizzy.

Dizzy gulped, her hands tightening reflexively against Johnny's leg and making him wince. "He's…he's not a Gear," she said in Johnny's ear. "I can't…_feel_ him, like I could Testament…"

Johnny eased her hands back. "I didn't think so, either."

Raven stood, his balance perfect despite the blowing wind. The humor had by now faded from his expression. "I think that's enough playtime for now."

He leapt forward, and though Johnny and Dizzy both tensed the jump was not enough to carry him back onto the main hull of the ship. He landed easily just beside the portside engine. By the time Johnny realized what he was up to it was too late—the gears and propellers were easily shredded, and gave off a brief spume of dark smoke before falling silent.

For a moment everything seemed suspended. The airship was continuing on, Johnny and Raven regarding each other across the short space…and then, as if on cue, everything started to fall. The small merchant ship lurched, already crippled and now failing, and tugged with a squeal on the two of _Mayship_'s tow wires Dizzy had managed to attach.

"Hold on…!" Johnny twisted, finding and latching onto one of the thick metal bars the clamps should have been attached to. Dizzy clung to him as the entire ship began to tip. With the wires only attached on the starboard side the entire craft began to swing downward in a sickening rush. Johnny clung to the bar with both hands, pinning Dizzy between his body and the ship with her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as the ground dropped out from under them.

When they were fully vertical Johnny managed to glance down, just long enough to see Raven flung from the craft.

* * *

May braced herself against the back of a chair as _Mayship_ tilted and groaned. Several of the bridge crew members were sent tumbling with the sudden shift of level ground beneath them. "What happened?" she demanded, drawing herself up the incline to reach her connection with Novere. "What's going on? Is Johnny all right?" 

It took a moment for Novere to respond; meanwhile, her crew ran about, adding power to the starboard engine in an attempt to stabilize them. "Captain!" her voice finally broke through the speaker. "The Korean ship's engines are out—they're hanging by two lines!"

"Is it holding?" The ship was much smaller than _Mayship_, so they should not have had any problem staying airborne, but with only two lines there was a threat of the cleats ripping free.

"So far, Captain! But Johnny and Dizzy are in trouble. We've got to get them down!"

May chewed her lip worriedly as she pictured the scene Novere was describing to her. Her fist impulse was to run to the lower hatch, to make sure he was all right… But she caught a glance from April that halted her. The ship came first. Johnny had always taught her that.

"Hu…Hurry our descent!" she called to her deck hands. "We've got to get that ship down before we lose it! Head for the edge of the city!"

"Aye, Captain!"

"Johnny…" May licked her lips as she retook her position at the head of the ship. "Hold on, just a little longer…"

* * *

Sol tried to keep his gaze focused on the ships overhead as he and Jam continued to race through Beijing's crowded streets. She was a great deal more adept at maneuvering around the street vendors and rickshaws than he was, but he was able to keep up by benefit of his greater speed. By now it seemed that they were directly beneath the battling airships. 

"Why are you following me?" Jam demanded, not looking back as she all but bounced through the crowd. Everyone was watching the spectacle unfold above them, making it a little easier to weave through their stationary bodies.

"I'm not," Sol grunted. He wasn't following her. They were just heading in the same direction.

"You want to take out some pirates, too, ah?" This time Jam flashed him a bright grin. "If you can take out more than me, that expensive dinner of yours is on the house."

Sol's lip twitched despite himself; wise men never passed up free meals. "It's a deal."

He glanced up at the ships again, and as he and everyone else on the streets watched, the smaller vessel's engine suddenly began to belch dark smoke. A murmur arose from the spectators, and then a cry as the ship wavered and started to fall. Sol bit back a curse. "What the hell is that Johnny up to?" He'd always known the pirate to be an idiot, but bringing a ship down over a heavily populated city was something new.

Ahead of him, Jam was muttering profanity in her own language—he couldn't make much of it out. As they continued to push through the groups of people, Sol's attention was drawn suddenly by a dark shape plummeting off the crippled ship. He squinted against the sun. "What the hell…"

It was heading straight for them, and it didn't look like metal. He forced his way over to Jam to grab her by the arm. "Wait. Something's not—"

Jam slipped out of his grip with surprisingly little effort. "Don't try to stop me, stranger. This is _my_ city, and no pirate's gonna—"

The rest of her words were swallowed by the sound of the impact; a dozen or so meters ahead of them, the debris from the ship smashed into the ground with a startling percussion. Jam finally halted as she stared at the strange purple mass that was now imbedded in the stone street. She gave Sol a shove. "What _is_ that?"

Sol frowned. It looked like no one had been hit by the bizarre meteorite, but there were a lot of people still out in the open, and beginning to crowd around it. Something tingled at the back of his neck in warning. It wasn't the familiar aura of a Gear, though. It was…less natural than that.

Whatever it was moved—twitched, a little, like an injured insect. Sol finally jarred back to life and began pushing through the crowd once more. "Get away from it!" he shouted, already drawing his sword. The sight of Fireseal's gleaming blade drove several people away, even if they weren't yet wary of the shifting projectile. "Stand back, all of you!"

The men and women closest to the thing looked up, and seemed about to back off as he'd instructed. One woman wasn't quick enough, and neither was Sol. He was still a few meters away when five long, clawed fingers burst through her back.

The crowd's wary curiosity shifted quickly to panic as the woman's blood spurted out onto the closest bystanders. Sol clenched his jaw and set his feet; all at once the crowd was a mob, surging with cries and curses away from what was by now clearly some kind of creature. Sol did his best to hold his ground despite the wave of frantic bodies scrambling past him. As the area around the creature thinned, he was finally granted a view of its unusual appearance.

Raven straightened, flicking the woman's corpse from his arm. Though Sol had never seen something quite like this—his senses still insisted this was no Gear—he was already preparing his magic for a fight. As soon as he had more room…

Raven didn't wait for the people to clear away. As soon as his eyes met Sol's through the crowd he grinned darkly, and abruptly leapt into the air. Sol tensed, but there were still too many of the city folk churning about him, and any burst of magic or sweep of his sword would have taken several of them down with this new foe. It wasn't like him to care about things like that. But as the monster bore down on him he only lifted his sword at an angle before him, hoping to catch at least some part of his enemy when he landed.

The pair collided heavily, Sol thrown to his back with the weight against his chest. A few of the fleeing spectators were dragged down with them into the heap. He felt his sword lodge in flesh of some kind but it didn't seem to stop Raven in the slightest; sharpened talons flashed out at him, tearing long gashes along his face. If the fall hadn't jarred his aim, he might have torn Sol's throat out.

"What the_ fuck_ are you?" Sol hissed, twisting Fireseal with one hand while the other landed a heavy punch to the side of the creature's jaw. The claws continued to scrape at him, drawing blood from his arm and chest, but that didn't stop him from continuing his savage blows to Raven's jaw and throat. "Get _off_!"

"Hi-_YAH!_"

A red, high heeled shoe entered Sol's vision for a mere fraction of a second. As unexpected as the aid was it caught Raven even more off guard. The beast reeled back with a short cry, vanishing for a moment into the last of the staggering crowd.

Sol scrambled to his feet, Fireseal humming in his grip as he got his bearings. He shook his head and flicked blood in all directions, but by then the wounds were already closing. "Jam?"

"What _is_ that thing?" Jam repeated, and Sol was annoyed to see her standing almost protectively in front of him. "Is it a Gear?"

Sol stepped up beside her, watching as, a few meters away, Raven pushed to his feet. It wasn't until then that Sol realized Jam had thrust the heel of her nice shoe through his eye socket. Bits of gore were sliding down the side of his face along with the blood. And he was smiling.

"It's not a Gear," Sol muttered, by now pretty confident in his assessment. "It's…something different." He bit back the opinion that it might have been something worse.

"I am Raven," the creature introduced suddenly. He jerked Jam's shoe from his face to be tossed aside, and with a finger scooped some of the bloody ooze from his cheek back into the injured socket. Sol and Jam both cringed at the disgusting display as Raven's eye was reformed perfectly. "I already know who you are, Sol Badguy."

Sol's expression darkened. Jam's heels were at least three inches high—enough that her blow should have struck to this 'Raven's' brain. And still he was unhindered. "What are you?"

"Something inhuman," Raven replied easily. "Like you." He shook his head, allowing his long hair to fall into order down his back. "But I didn't come here for you. I've already done my job."

"You mean the ship?" Sol's fingers clenched. If a monster like this was working for someone—

"You bastard!" Jam shouted suddenly beside him. "Don't think you can terrorize _my_ city and get away with it!" She tensed for a jump.

"Jam, wait—" Sol reached for her but by then it was too late; Jam propelled herself through the air with a powerful jump. As she extended her leg for a kick the limb was bathed in the light of her _ki_, driving her at an incredible speed toward Raven's already injured face.

Raven made no move to dodge the blow; the bone of her heel struck him firmly between the eyes, driving him back several steps as Jam landed effortlessly on her feet. She was grinning in accomplishment. But Sol knew better than to think she had done any real damage. Even as Raven regained his balance Sol could feel a swell of magic from him. He darted forward. "Jam!"

Raven spread his fingers, and Sol didn't wait to see what kind of magic he would unleash on them. He circled an arm around Jam's waist, drawing her with him to his knees as he planted Fireseal before them. His own magic burst from the eager blade in a swell of swirling fire. The impact of Raven's magic came a moment later. There was a deafening hiss, the sting of heated steam wafting back and stinging his exposed skin. He felt Jam cringe as the burning vapor bit at her bare legs and arms. But he kept the pressure of his fire constant, driving Raven's power back until they both lost their stamina and stopped, gasping.

Raven staggered back a step as bits of remaining moisture fell from his open palm. Sol didn't move. He still didn't trust that the creature had sustained any injury, or was even weakened from the battle of energies.

Raven laughed, a low, almost weary sound. Only when he lowered his hand did Sol relax minutely. "Well done," Raven complimented. "He was right about you after all."

"He?" Sol tightened his arm around Jam's waist when she began to squirm. If Raven was retreating, he had no intention of letting her provoke him again. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll understand soon enough." Raven took another step back, looking honestly about to depart. "We'll meet again. Fredrick."

Despite having no previous intentions of detaining the strange man, Sol's heart lost a beat when he mentioned his name. He straightened. "What?"

But Raven only smirked. He hopped lightly into the air, and before Sol could even begin to decide if he were going to give chase Raven was enveloped in a bright, swirling aura. His figure seemed to ripple, like waves in a pond, as he slowly dissolved from sight. It only took a moment for him to disappear entirely.

Sol sighed, and finally let Jam go as he pushed to his feet. He had expended more magic defending from Raven's attack than he's realized, and the sudden fatigue made him glad he hadn't had the chance to challenge Raven again.

Jam, however, was clearly not satisfied. "What the hell?" she demanded, rubbing at the faint burns along her arms. "You let him go! And you stopped me from taking him out."

"You wouldn't have been able to anyway," Sol assured her, though it earned him her heavy glare. "It's probably better that he left." His sigh was almost a growl. "Whatever the hell he really was."

"If not a Gear, what else?" Jam glanced around, and was relieved to see the natives beginning to peek out their windows and come out from behind the vender carts. Other than the woman Raven had torn apart, there seemed to be only minor injuries. "You saw him fall out of the damn sky, too."

"Yeah." He wasn't happy to admit he didn't know anything living that could do something like that without injury. Save maybe Justice. But he dared not mention that name with so many people still around. "Whatever. It's gone. Let's just be glad he didn't decide to wipe your beloved city out."

Jam crossed her arms, still glaring at him as she kicked off her other shoe. Suddenly she glanced up. "The ships," she recalled. "They're still coming down." She turned about; by now the airships were far ahead of them, still heading in a steady decline towards the city's edge. Without another word she resumed her chase.

Sol's shoulders sagged. His interest had been in the ship's attacker, not pirates or merchants or whatever else. But then the remembered Raven's words. Whatever Raven had been sent to do, the answer was on that falling ton of steel. The only clue he had as to what he'd just fought, and who it was working for.

He scraped some more of the blood from his face and started off after Jam again.

* * *

Johnny tightened his already white-knuckled grip on the ship's hull. It wasn't often that he was out of options, but there was no denying that was his situation at present. Dizzy was still clinging to him, her breath fast against his ear. And they were still falling, so fast that it was nauseating, and he couldn't hear anything but the high whistle of the wind tearing at him. 

They had to get off before the ship hit. No matter how gently May was able to put the ships down, the impact would still be enough to throw them, especially with his grasp as weak as it already was. He grimaced as he tried to twist, viewing their surroundings. "Dizzy?"

"Johnny." Her arms tightened around his neck. "We're…going to crash, aren't we?"

"Yeah…" Johnny smiled grimly. "I'm afraid so."

Dizzy was silent for a moment, her fingers curling in the back of his coat. They were pressed so close that he felt her gulp. "I have an idea."

"Now would be a good time for one."

Dizzy relaxed her hold a little; Johnny grimaced as she pressed at his shoulders, pushing herself higher up his body. And then blushed, when she stopped with his face smashed between her breasts. He had to turn his head to keep from being smothered. "What are you doing?"

"Trust me, Johnny," Dizzy told him, her voice barely audible over the wind. Her legs parted around his ribs, fitting their bodies closer together. When her tail swayed it knocked between his knees.

Johnny smiled ironically. At least there might not have been any better way for a man to die….

"Hold on," Dizzy told him as she spread her wings flat against the hull.

It wasn't until then that Johnny really realized what she was up to, but he didn't have enough time to protest. Dizzy braced her feet against the ship behind her, and with a quiet cry pushed them away from the shuddering steel. Johnny let go of the cleat as he felt the press of her body—there was a single, terrifying instant when he felt himself slip before he was able to wrap his arms around her. But Dizzy's hands were still fisted in his coat, and her thighs tightened around his middle to keep him from falling. Gasping in relieved laughter Johnny tightened his arms around her as they sailed away from the ship, gliding on Dizzy's long wings.

Once they were far enough away Dizzy stretched her wings out further, providing them with a broad canopy to slow their descent. It probably still wouldn't be the easiest landing, but at least they were going much slower now, and with less strain to Johnny's weary fingers.

He sighed against her stomach. "Good job, Dizzy. That's my girl."

He wasn't sure if Dizzy heard him, but her felt her give his head a little squeeze as they continued down.

Ahead of them, the pair of ships continued on. Johnny and Dizzy watched hopefully as _Mayship_ finally cleared the edge of the city, bringing them into a forest of bamboo. The tall green spires parted and snapped before the crippled vessels, and soon the Korean tradeship was finally set down among the thin trees. _Mayship_ released the towlines, and though the rescued ship gave a lurch, it seemed to have settled as peacefully as it could. _Mayshship_ herself continued on, gaining altitude.

"Are they leaving us?" Dizzy said worriedly. They approaching the ground themselves now, and he could feel her tense in preparation.

"No," Johnny assured. "Bejing has a Global Police headquarters near here. They won't be able to land. Don't worry." He gave her a squeeze. "They'll come back for us."

"Oh, yes. Of course."

The pair fell silent as they completed their descent. As Johnny had suspected it still wasn't the comfiest of landings; his feet hit first, and were dragged for a bit before Dizzy folded her wings and sent them both falling to the ground. Johnny grunted as he flopped to his back with Dizzy dropping on top of him. The impact made his thigh ache all over again, but otherwise they seemed to have landed without harm.

"How's that," Johnny chuckled, letting his arms fall. At least the soil here was soft; he would never be so grateful for earth beneath him again. "We survived."

Dizzy giggled breathlessly above him as she stretched her weary wings and arms. "Yes, Johnny."

The two of them remained still for a moment, just catching their breath. Finally Dizzy's embarrassment outweighed her fatigue, and she picked herself up off the equally tired pirate. "Are you all right?" she asked with some concern, trying to get another peek of his thigh. "I don't think I was able to heal it very well before."

"I'm all right," Johnny quickly assured. "Lost enough blood for one day, but it's closed over now." He pushed himself up but didn't make it very far; now that they were on the ground and out of danger, his arms felt like jelly. "Help me up, would you? We should go see if anyone on that ship survived…"

Dizzy frowned slightly, but nodded, and helped pull Johnny to his feet. There was a moment of laughter between them as they both tottered a little. But finally they were walking—limping, in Johnny's case—towards the now silent merchant ship.

The hull was mostly intact, save the long gash in the port side and broken engine. It was the port wing that had taken the most damage in the fall. Johnny and Dizzy approached carefully, wary that whatever had attacked them in the air might have left something behind. But when Johnny tapped on the side what followed was the startled gasp of a woman from somewhere inside. "Thank God, at least someone's alive," Johnny sighed. But his gaze was swimming a little, so he touched Dizzy's arm to urge her forward. "Will you go see? There might be people who need healing."

Dizzy nodded seriously. "All right, Johnny." Tucking her wings in as much as she could she crouched down, and crawled through the ripped opening in the ship's side.

Johnny waited until she was inside before letting himself slip to the ground. "Haven't been this worn out in a while," he chuckled, finally taking a moment to check himself for injuries. His thigh had indeed stopped bleeding, but it still stung like mad. His hands and arms were going to be very sore in a few hours from clinging to the side of the ship, not to mention the hand-shaped bruises that were no doubt already darkening his neck.

"Someone," Johnny declared with a sigh, leaning back, "is due for a vacation."

Footsteps rustled closer through what remained of the bamboo, and Johnny tensed, struggling to his feet once more. Already weakened and without his sword there wasn't much he could do if Raven had decided to chase him down after all. When two very distinctively human figures appeared through the trees, he slumped raggedly. "My heart can't take this."

"What happened to you?" Sol grunted as he stepped closer, Jam beside him. "You look like shit."

"You, too," Johnny countered, indicating his face, which was still covered in drying blood. "Did she do that?"

"Listen, you pirate," Jam snapped at him in Chinese, marching forward. "We don't want your kind here. I don't care if it was you or that freak that took the ship down, but you're outta here!"

Johnny held his hands up in surrender. "I don't speak Chinese," he said sheepishly.

"Oh? How 'bout now?" Jam muttered, switching to Global tongue. It wasn't much easier to understand, with her accent. "I was saying—"

"Hold on." Sol rolled his eyes as he stepped forward. "I have some questions for you," he said, glaring at Johnny. "And you're going to answer."

Johnny sighed. He was pretty sure he'd had more than enough excitement. "Come on, Badguy, I've had enough trouble with monsters for one day. Give me a break, will ya?"

That made Sol pause, to Johnny's satisfaction. "So you fought that thing. No wonder you look awful."

Johnny returned his frown. "You saw it, too?"

Their conversation was interrupted with the appearance of Dizzy crawling through the wrecked airship hull. She blinked in surprise to see Johnny wasn't alone. Her gaze hesitated on Sol before sliding to Jam, and she gasped. "Miss Kuradoberi!"

Jam, who had been stubbornly ignoring the others, jumped and whipped around. "Dizzy!" she cried. "I thought I turned you in!"

Dizzy shrank back with a nervous smile. "Well, yes, but…"

"Enough," Sol said gruffly. "We have more important things to worry about."

"Oh! That's right…" Dizzy moved out of the way of the opening, reaching back to help a middle-aged woman through. She was bleeding from a small wound on her forehead that dripped red into her thick black hair. She was murmuring quietly to herself; Johnny's eyes widened when he recognized the language.

"I can't understand her," Dizzy said, helping her to her feet. "It looks like…there were only two survivors."

Johnny limped closer, keeping one hand against the side of the ship as he motioned to Dizzy with the other. "Give her to me. I'll talk to her."

Dizzy nodded, helping the woman towards him. He cleared his throat. His Japanese was probably rusty, but he could at least manage a simple consolation. "It's all right," he told her, giving her a smile. "You're Japanese, right? It's all right now."

The woman stared up at him with wide, startled eyes, and when she realized what Johnny had said to her she launched suddenly into a torrent of words, falling against his chest with what sounded like pleas. It was much too fast for him to pick up much, and he tried to calm her by holding her a bit closer. "Slowly, slowly. My Japanese is very bad…"

Sol glared at him, a harsher version of the baffled stare Jam was fixing him and the woman. "She's Japanese?" he demanded. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"Hold on," Johnny muttered before turning back to the woman. He touched her cheek gently to keep her attention and calm her down. "Slowly," he tried again in Japanese. "Tell me what happened."


	14. Chapter 13

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

Sorry for the delay! Between moving to a new place and…coughlosing my fic notescough it took me a while to get back to writing. But here it is and I hope it's not so bad :D.

Small note: keep in mind that because of the time difference this is taking place around the same time as the last two chapters .

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 13

Ky was still tightening the belts on his undershirt when he heard Bridget's high laughter echoing up from the front hall. He smiled to himself as he tugged an extra blanket over the slumbering Testament and left his room. He had told his housekeepers that Bridget was always welcome, and so the young man had taken it upon himself to visit every morning. Awaking to the sound of his excited chatter reminded Ky of the short days he'd spent with the Jellyfish Pirates.

By the time Ky entered the kitchen Bridget was already chattering away with Rosaline as he helped her prepare breakfast. It had only been three days and already the pair seemed to have become good friends. Though when he saw what Bridget was wearing, he quickly changed his mind as to whether he was glad for it.

"Bridget!" Ky gaped in exasperation at the blue and white, frilly laced dress—and matching shoes. Rosaline's maid uniform. "What are you doing?"

Bridget glanced over his shoulder, and blushed with a giggle at Ky's surprised reaction. "Do you like it? Rosaline said it would look cute on me." He gave his hips a wiggle so that the thick skirt waved back and forth. "She insisted."

Ky sighed, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table as Rosaline laughed beneath her hand. "It's very…cute on you," he assured. Like when they had met at his father's party, Bridget's girlish appearance was nearly flawless when dressed like that. Ky blushed a little, mysteriously.

"Isn't it?" Rosaline stepped lightly to the table with a bowl of freshly cut fruit for him. "I think it suits him."

"Doesn't suit me _that_ much," Bridget protested. "It's so girly. But Rosaline said if I tried it on, she'd let me borrow something for when I go out today."

Ky glanced up quickly, this time his face losing its color. "You're going outside like that?"

Bridget giggled. "No way! I'll wear something else. But I'm meeting my brother for lunch before he goes back to England." His voice tipped somewhat strangely as he buttered some toast for them. "I have to be dressed as a girl when I'm with him, so people don't suspect."

That made Ky frown, strangely distressed by Bridget's circumstances. They hadn't known each other long but he remembered the young man's constant insistence on being 'manly,' despite build and appearance and even mannerisms. He caught Rosaline's eye, who was trying to keep an expression of sympathy from her face. "If you want, Bridget," Ky suggested, "you could invite him here. No one bothers me here. Then you could dress however you want."

Bridget quickly shook his head. "No, it's all right. Brandon's already meeting me at a café, and besides, I wouldn't want to bother our friend upstairs." He smiled. "He's asleep, right? He must have been out all night."

"Well, yes, but…." Ky glanced away. He still felt guilty about that. Since losing track of Venom at the mystery healer's shack Testament had taken to helping Ky with his searches of the city. During the day Ky would comb the streets with his officers, and at night Testament took to the rooftops in an attempt to hunt down Venom, I-no, and all her accomplices, at the risk of his own safety. Ky had been wrong to mistrust him and he regretted it.

"He's been a great help to you, hasn't he, Sir Kiske?" Rosaline interrupted his thoughts, her smile faintly teasing. "It's been a long time since you've had such a long-staying visitor."

This time Ky's blush was dark, and he quickly took a bite of fresh melon to stall his response. "Yes, I suppose so. He's, well, a good friend."

Rosaline's smile deepened. He knew she had already figured out exactly how good of a friend he was, considering he and Testament had awoken the morning after their settled arguments to find their carelessly discarded clothing carefully folded, the sofa freshly cleaned. Though in the past Ky had been very careful in keeping his lovers a secret from the public, he'd never been able to hide them from his two girls.

"I think I'll go finish that laundry I started," Rosaline said, saving her employer from further embarrassment. "Bridget, I left something for you on the chair in the living room. You're welcomed to borrow it."

"Thanks Rosy," Bridget said brightly. "See you later."

The housemaid disappeared into the basement, and it wasn't until the door was closed behind her that Bridget spoke up again. "I'm glad you made up," he said quietly, joining Ky at the table with the toast. "With Testament, I mean."

"So am I. It was…mostly my fault, after all." Ky nibbled thoughtfully on the toast. Something seemed a little off that morning, something in Bridget's demeanor, and though he was anxious to return to his officers he couldn't rush off if there was something wrong. "What's important is that we're working together now."

Bridget nodded vaguely. "Testament's really a good person," he murmured. "He's been taking really good care of me, you know. Helping me train, catching some higher bounties than I couldn't have alone…." He shifted in his seat, and though his odd attire was distracting, Ky was easily alerted to his uneasy manner. "You're both wonderful."

"Bridget." Ky tried not to frown as he turned his attention away from his breakfast. "Is something the matter?"

"No, not really. I was just thinking…I'm happy for you." Bridget's smile looked too old for his face as he turned the bread in his fingers. "Testament says I'm going to really grow up soon," he abruptly changed subjects.

"You mentioned that before…."

"He says I should get taller, and I'll be able to build more muscle, and my voice will change…. When that happens, do you think I'll still look like a girl? I might not be able to visit my brother anymore. Or do you think…I'll just be the same Bridget?"

"Bridget…." Ky watched as the boy pushed up from his chair, suddenly speechless. It was strange, and disconcerting, to hear the usually lively boy talk with such seriousness in his tone. He licked his lips and searched for some response, some encouragement he could offer, but in truth he was having some difficulty imagining the older, more masculine "Bridget" being described to him.

Bridget stepped into the living room, picking up the garment bag Rosaline had left for him. "I guess it doesn't matter either way," he said thoughtfully. "For a while I thought I might as well keep being a girl. I make a better girl than a guy anyway, right? But then I realized that didn't matter for you and Testament, so…"

Ky stood, still frowning. "Bridget, what are you talking about?"

Bridget glanced up, and his wide, bright eyes looked almost too innocent. Something about his deep gaze made Ky's fingers curl at his sides. For a moment they only stared at each other across the short space, and then Bridget abruptly smiled, breaking the stillness.

"It's nothing," he assured easily. "Sorry, Ky. I didn't mean to bother you." Bridget hefted the bag, hopping back into the kitchen on his way toward the front hall. "I'd better get going if I'm going to change into this before meeting Brandon. I'll see you later, okay?"

Ky intercepted him before he could make it to the hall, stepping in front of him with a hand on his slender shoulder. This time he didn't let the outfit distract him as he met those blue eyes of his. "Bridget," he said softly, searching for the right words. "We're not the same, but I think we understand better than most that life isn't as free for some people as it is others. We can't always live the way we want. But just because we have limitations doesn't also mean…we don't have the right to be ourselves. Do you understand?"

He lifted his other hand, gently touching the boy's cheek with his fingertips. Bridget was watching him very closely, and he didn't want to say the wrong thing. "It doesn't matter to me, or Testament, or even your brother how you grew up or what you wear. To me, you'll always be the Bridget that fought bravely alongside me in Italy."

Bridget's lips pressed tight, his eyes thinning slightly in emotion as he returned Ky's steady gaze. Finally he leaned forward, pressing his face into the front of Ky's shirt. Ky sighed, and with a faint smile welcomed the smaller boy against him with arms around his shoulders. He didn't feel Bridget cry, but he was shivering a little, his breath slow and harsh. He couldn't help but remember himself at this age. Despite their vastly different personalities and situations, he recalled all the personal trials, the uncertainty, the search for understanding….

"Why don't you go meet your brother in your bounty hunting outfit?" Ky suggested, touching the top of Bridget's head. "I think he'd like that better, too."

Bridget nodded against his chest, letting Rosaline's garment bag slip to the floor with a dull thump of fabric. His fingers curled slightly against Ky's shirt. "Ky," he murmured, his shoulder's hunching. "Ky, I…."

"Hm?" Ky gently urged Bridget back so he could see his face again. "What is it?"

Bridget only stared at him a moment, something like quiet determination strengthening his expression. It wasn't until just before he started to move that Ky realized he knew that look, and by then it was too late; Bridget stood up on his toes, fingers tightening in Ky's shirt so he could tug himself up. His lips found Ky's easily, pressing up against them for a firm kiss. Ky was too startled by the gesture to respond, frozen beneath Bridget's soft mouth. There was an almost desperate, youthful sincerity in Bridget's kiss, the way his hands trembled against Ky's chest. He recognized it only too well.

When Bridget pulled back his face was flushed, his eyes excited and anxious. Ky was still stammering dumbly over a reaction. His brow tightened. "Bridget…."

"It's all right," Bridget quickly interrupted. He took a step back so that Ky's hands fell from his shoulders. "I gotta go." He scooped up the garment bag and draped it over Ky's arm. "Thanks for cheering me up. Will you tell Rosaline thanks anyway?" He turned, starting abruptly for the door.

"Of course…." Ky followed, his expression contorting as he forced himself to understand what he should have realized sooner. But Bridget wasn't giving him enough time to think; already he was opening the door to leave. Ky shook himself and tried again. "Wait, Bridget. I—"

"Tell Testament I said hi when he wakes up," Bridget cut him off brightly. "I'm seeing Brandon off tonight so I won't see either of you until tomorrow. Take care, okay?" With a smile Bridget slipped outside, and didn't wait for Ky to reply before skipping down the snow-sprinkled path towards the road.

Ky stood in the doorway, struggling between emotions as he watched Bridget disappear down the street. Still in Rosaline's maid outfit. He shook his head. "Now what am I going to do with you?"

"Ky."

Ky glanced over his shoulder, and was only a little surprised to see Testament watching him from the stairs. The Gear smiled faintly. "I warned you."

Ky released a heavy sigh. His lips were still warm as he turned back inside, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Sewers," Axl muttered with irritation, shivering as he clung to the slick stone walls. The light from the magic lantern affixed to his hip swung and jostled with each step. "I should have _known_ this was your brilliant plan. Bloody sewers." 

A few feet ahead of him along the narrow ledge that ran the length of Paris' broad sewer system, Venom snorted. Axl had not stopped complaining about his chosen method of escaping the city since he'd first suggested it. At least berating him for it kept both their minds off the smell.

They had finally left Faust's underground clinic a few hours earlier, sharing a strange set of farewells. Axl had gushed with appreciation and well wishes, his companion with solemn murmurs. He was still having a difficult time understanding the doctor's motives for accepting him, and nursing him to health. Thanking him for the un-repaid service had been a humbling experience.

Even more baffling was Faust's parting words to him. Even now they echoed in Venom's mind. "You'll understand," Faust had said, hunched over and single visible eye sharp with sincerity. With no indication of what he had meant, how long it would take, Faust had declared those simple words before ushering the two men out of his clinic. Venom couldn't help the feeling that he would meet the man again someday.

"And you're certain 'bout this, right?" Axl was saying, drawing Venom's mind back to their slow progress under Paris' streets. "Don't you think Kiske would'a thought of this by now?"

"He knows we won't be able to get out of Paris like this," Venom replied, pausing at a cross section. He continued to speak as he got his bearings. "These tunnels are a maze—a normal criminal would have no chance of maneuvering them successfully. Most of them congregate at the center of the city, near the Global Police Headquarters. And even if one could trace them to the edge of the city, they would still have to surface."

"Eh? Why's that?"

Venom was quiet, and then, having decided on a path, turned them left down a slightly larger tunnel than the one they had been following. He resumed his explanation along with their travel. "Because the lines that pass under the city walls are enforced with magical seals. There is a special filter in place to prevent anything living from going in or out of the city below ground level. It dates back to the war, when Paris was under siege and they needed to keep the Gears from tunneling under the walls."

"Ah…okay," Axl replied, feigning understanding. Only then did Venom remember that the man had not grown up during the Crusades, as they all had. It was strange to imagine someone alive in their world that did not have such basic knowledge of history. "Then how're we getting out, if it's so protected?"

"The walls themselves are no longer as protected. There are places along it, between the gates, where the old magic has worn thin. They refresh the seals in sections according to a schedule, so there is always at least one area of the wall where it's at its weakest."

Axl hummed thoughtfully as he turned that information over in his mind. Despite being allied with a known murderer, he seemed inordinately cheerful. "And you just happen to know this schedule," he surmised.

"The west section, a quarter mile north from the sixth guard station, will be refreshed tomorrow evening." Venom glanced back over his shoulder, allowing a hint of humor into his eyes. "I wouldn't be much of a guild leader, if I didn't know these things."

Axl flashed him a grin. "No wonder you were in such a rush to leave today."

Venom faced forward again, and picked up his pace a bit. "It'll be another twenty minutes."

Axl groaned, hefting his travel pack as he trotted after him.

As Venom had assured, twenty minutes later they had reached Paris's western wall. Though the sewer grates crossing the pipes appeared like ordinary metal, a faint hum came off of them, accompanied by a subtle gleam of pale light. Wisely, neither of them ventured too close. Venom turned them down one last tunnel, smaller than the last. A short walk and they were facing a circular hole cut into the underground wall. It was only a little more than a meter in diameter, and led at a sharp incline up into the wall, with thick, metal bars set into the stone as hand holds.

Axl peered into the darkened tunnel, his expression twisting doubtfully. It was pitch black inside and very narrow with no visible exit. "Um…this goes all the way through?"

"No." Venom crouched down, and grabbed Axl's belt to keep his lantern still so that he could see his weapon case as he opened it. "It goes up into the wall, so that when the engineers come to repair the seals they'll be able to do so from the inside." He pulled out his pool cue, and out of habit applied the blue chalk to its tip.

"And so you're going for a round of billiards," Axl mused, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Brilliant."

Venom's lip twisted faintly as he selected the yellow number one ball from his case, and twisted the cue into a single shaft. He motioned for Axl to kneel at the entrance to the tunnel, which he begrudgingly did. As Venom positioned the blonde's hand, pool ball balanced on his fingers, he asked, "How did you get into the city in the first place, they're so careful?"

"I came in with the crowds, coming for the festival," Venom admitted as he shifted on the balls of his feet. He leveled the pool cue expertly, calculating the angle, the surface of the rock he was aiming at. "Hidden under a wine cart. There were too many people in town for the gates to check every one."

Axl laughed, the light tone of his voice echoing in the confined space. "That's fantastic."

Venom almost smiled himself, and a sharp jerk of his arm sent the bright yellow ball shooting into the tunnel. The crack of hardened resin against old stone was clear and cold, and was quickly followed by nearly a dozen more of the same percussions as Venom's unusual projectile ricocheted back and forth inside the wall. Axl's appreciative whistle was nearly lost in the resounding clatter. Somewhere unseen rocks were giving way, and a few even tumbled back down the tunnel, rolling past their feet.

Finally the clamor subsided to a softer clang, until the yellow pool ball had rolled to the bottom of the tunnel and back into Venom's hand. There was not a blemish on it. "That ought to have loosened it up some."

"That's one hell of a bank shot you got, Venny," Axl complimented. He lifted the lantern off his waist to take a closer look at the opening. "Hope no one heard it."

Venom blinked at him. "Venny?"

"Hm? What, too kiddy?"

"…Yes." Venom shook his head as he set ball and cue back into their case and snapped the latches shut. He began to crawl up into the skinny tunnel, doing his best not to stretch his healing injuries. "Please don't call me that."

"I have to call you something," Axl protested, leaning into the tunnel with his lantern outstretched so that Venom might have a little light. "You want us to be out at a bar somewhere, drinking, having a good time, and I say, 'Hey, Venom! You buy this round!' and then someone looks up and says, 'Venom? Isn't that the name of that assassin?' And Bam! We've got police on us."

Venom shook his head again, but he was through arguing with Axl's strange logic, and the ease in which he detailed scenarios that at one time had been so foreign to him. Drinking together in a small bar like normal men…that was a lifestyle that didn't apply to people like him, and yet whenever Axl brought it up, it sounded more appealing.

"You can buy your own beer," Venom retorted instead as he continued his climb up into Paris' outer wall.

"Don't you got a real name, Ven-man?" Axl pressed. "One from before you were an assassin?"

Venom sighed. "No, I don't. And don't call me 'Ven-man,' either."

"Spoil sport."

Venom stopped climbing, drawing his hand experimentally over the cold surface in front of him. He could feel the cracks in the wall that his bank shot had deepened, spreading in jagged spider webs beneath his fingertips. He braced himself and pushed, the stone shifting under the pressure, scraping quietly. But in the narrow space he couldn't get as much leverage as he would have liked, and it was slow going.

Venom braced his feet, propping himself up against his back so that his hands were free. "Pass me up my case."

"'Kay." He could hear Axl fumble with the case, the lantern swinging so that what little light he had twisted and slanted. After a moment he felt the corner bump into his ankle, and he reached down, trying to get his hands around it.

Venom had just managed to get his hands around the case's blunt corner, enough to pull it up, when the support beneath the case was wrenched abruptly away with Axl's startled yelp. Venom clutched after the slipping vinyl, and managed to keep it from falling, distracting him momentarily from the sudden commotion beneath him. Once he was sure it wasn't about to tumble back down the incline, he turned his attention back below. "Axl? This isn't the time for fooling around."

He couldn't see the lantern anymore. His eyes were trying to adjust to the sudden dark but there wasn't any light for them to draw in, only the barest shapes to make out. There were voices below, more than just Axl's cheerful banter. It was a man he didn't recognize, speaking in low tones.

Venom shifted. "Axl?" Though concerned, it wasn't until he heard a familiar tap of false flesh against the sewer floor that a chill of panic spread up his spine.

The shadows twisted, revealing to him a pair of gleaming read eyes as they rushed at him up the tunnel.

* * *

The attack had caught Axl completely off guard. All his focus had been on handing the heavy case up to his partner, keeping him from noticing the stealthy approach of footsteps. A blow that might have been from a kick sent him reeling away from the opening and onto his back. "Who the hell—" Fearing the police he tried to clamor back to his feet. "Kiske, is that—" 

A man's heel dug into his stomach, knocking the wind from him. Axl managed to keep from being thrown again by clinging to the wall as he gasped after the lost air. As his attacker came closer he reached into his travel bag, groping for his pair of short scythes. The police would have named themselves by now, would have given surrender as an option. Axl's gaze was still swimming but he managed to raise it, taking in the unfamiliar figure.

The young man's face was lit from below from Axl's fallen lamp, casting eerie shadows across his eyes. The youthful countenance was not one Axl recognized, especially when taking into account the prison jumper and small heart tied to his forehead. Finally he had his breath enough under control to mutter, "Looks like everyone wants outta Paris. You must be Kiske's escapee."

Zappa tilted his head to the side, the bones of his neck giving a sickening crack. "You don't recognize me."

Axl froze, his fingers curled tightly around the handle of his first sickle, as the man's voice sunk into him. It was low and rasping, but at the same time had a strange, and unearthly, feminine quality to it that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He squinted at Zappa through the dark in confusion. "Who are you…?"

More footsteps echoed toward him, and Axl had just enough time to recognize the second almost-human man before it drove into the wall tunnel that Venom was still wedged up inside. He jerked his weapons free from the bag. "Venom--!"

He started forward, but the boy was faster than he looked. Zappa's muscled limbs whipped with the turning of his body, as if boneless, driving Axl back. "It was you that caused all the trouble with the cops," Axl muttered, feeling his palms heat with the building force of his magic. "Which means—"

The Musician in Red slid into view behind Zappa, confirming Axl's suspicions. She was still wearing Ky's thick blue mantle, and a thick satchel off her shoulder. "There, we found him," she said, sounding bored. "Take care of your little lover's quarrel and let's get out of here already."

Axl glared, baffled, at the pair. "Lover's…?"

Zappa tilted his head again, with the same grotesque snap, and as Axl watched, could almost see a face taking shape over his left shoulder. It could have been a trick of the light, but his eyes widened in shock nonetheless as a familiar woman's face became clearer through the mist.

"I've missed you," the cold voice hissed through Zappa's slack lips. "Darling."


	15. Chapter 14

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

I've realized that the entirety of my fanfictions (or at least this series especially) depend on coincidental meetings. Right place right time seems to be my preferred plot device. And…I'll work on that, but not right now. Cue the coincidence!

To respond to Uzumaki, no, I didn't find my old fic notes. These next few chapters are completely on the fly! Can't wait to see what happens (laugh).

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 14

"You're not eating?"

Bridget glanced up from his plate, around which he had been moving his brunch with a fork for the past fifteen minutes. His brother Brandon was watching him from across the table with a look of familial concern. He heaved a sigh. "I'm not really hungry."

Brandon tipped his head doubtfully. "You? Not hungry? That's one I haven't heard before."

Bridget scrunched his nose in a childish face, though it was only half-hearted. With another quiet sigh he dropped his fork and instead rested his chin in his hands. He hadn't wanted to bring up his troubles now, when his brother was about to return to England and they wouldn't see each other for months. But there was no one that understood him like Brandon did, and no one else in the city he knew he could talk to, who wasn't already…involved. He squirmed in his seat indecisively.

Brandon fixed him with a gentle smile. "Bridget," he said, his tone prodding. "You're going to tell me eventually. So it might as well be now."

Bridget made the face again despite his relief. Brandon knew him too well. Licking his lips, the young bounty hunter finally divulged the cause of his unease. "It's…Officer Kiske. I did something I shouldn't have."

A moment of silence passed, and when Bridget risked glancing back to his brother's face, he cringed a little beneath the scrutinizing look fastened on him. His cheeks, which had already flushed red with his confession, deepened in color. "Nothing that dramatic," he quickly corrected. "I…kissed him. On the mouth this time."

"And he…?" Brandon continued to coax.

"And he…I don't know." Bridget frowned abruptly as he played the scene back over in his mind. "I guess I didn't really give him a chance to react. He was…pretty surprised."

He paused, watching Brandon for some greater reaction. His brother had always been sensible, in almost all things, and he could use some advice from him now. When it looked that this particular issue was giving him some concern, Bridget felt his heart sink a little. Not that he had been expecting overwhelming support….

"Bridget," Brandon said, keeping his voice low so that those dining around them wouldn't hear. "Do you think you can still be around him, as a friend, without it being anything more than that?"

Bridget squirmed again, a cold pit forming in his stomach. He had asked himself that many times by now, had considered all his options and predicted everything Brandon might tell him. Hearing the words spoken, however, was much harder. "Yes," he said at last, lowering his eyes. His hands fidgeted together against the tabletop. "I think so."

Brandon's hand fell over his, warm and a little stern, stilling his movements. His voice was the same. "Then that's what I think you should do."

Bridget sighed. "I know," he murmured as his shoulders sunk. "I know he's too old, and too important, and too…everything. And on top of that he has someone else." He curled his fingers around his brother's, needing the familiarity. His lips fit themselves into a faint smile. "But…it's just a little crush anyway, right? There's no harm in that."

When he glanced up, Brandon was smiling quietly. He was trying to be supportive and that was really all Bridget needed anyway. "No, there's no harm in that."

A few minutes later, Brandon insisted on paying their tab, and they left the café together. Bridget pulled his long white coat over his bounty hunting outfit, belt and all, with a quiet sigh. "Thanks, Brandon," he said lightly, giving his brother a warm hug. "Say hi to Mom for me."

"I will." Brandon hugged him back, and as he pulled back ruffled Bridget's hat. "Take care of yourself, okay? You'll be fine."

"Yeah. I know."

They both pulled back, and were about to separate when a woman's scream echoed down the street opposite them.

* * *

Venom twisted in the narrow space, but there was no where to go, no way to evade beast suddenly clawing up at him. He couldn't even see his attacker save for two thin crimson slits. Talons ripped at the soles of his shoes, and though his first instinct was to kick back his balance inside the tunnel was already tenuous at best. Instead he adjusted his grip on his weapon case, jabbing it down against Eddie's face and hands. The creature hissed and snarled, but his body never stayed in one shape long enough for Venom to land any substantial blows.

Thick fingers pulled at his ankles, and one of his feet came loose, shifting he weight so that he felt back against the stale stone. Eddie was pulling himself higher up his body, trying to follow his legs up to something vital he could gouge. When Venom felt cold claws draw a shallow gash along his thigh he panicked a moment, kicking and swinging the case, unaware of the stones giving way at his back.

"Axl—" He couldn't hear anything above Eddie's enraged growls. Finally his attacker got himself a foothold, and what might have been the curve of his skull slammed hard against Venom's healing stomach. With a weak cry his legs jerked, forcing all his weight—and some of Eddie's—against the wall behind him.

The extra force was just enough, and with a dull clatter the stone crumbled and opened. By now desperate to escape the suffocating confines Venom kicked against Eddie's chest, and found himself slipping over the lip of the newly formed hole. With a startled gasp he fell backwards, case clasped to his chest and feet kicking over his head as he tumbled out of the wall.

The impact was not as heavy as he'd feared; having crawled up through the sewers, he fell out of Paris's blockade a mere three feet above the ground. It was his aching chest that made the sudden rush of ground up against his back feel like a lead hammer. Groaning, he forced his eyes open and winced in the light.

When Eddie didn't follow immediately, clawing and roaring, Venom realized something was wrong. He twisted, blinking at his surroundings. He understood when he heard a woman scream—he'd fallen out back inside the city. As his sight cleared he could make out the blurred shapes of people scurrying about, backing away from him. Someone might have even spoken his name.

Venom rolled onto his knees, still breathless but needing to escape. Outside the city, he could manage. He could lose Kiske and his officers easily, escape even Eddie. But inside the walls there were no hiding places left for him, and more importantly…Axl was still down there, somewhere.

"You forget," a voice hissed down at him, low and grating. "We were part of the Guild, too. Did you think I wouldn't know you'd come this way?"

"Get out of my way!" Venom snatched up his weapon case, and with a growl of his own swung it heavily into the hole he'd put through Paris's wall. He felt rather than saw it's angular corner strike Eddie full in the face, heard his body tumble down into the sewers below. Though by now the voices behind him had risen to shrieks he climbed back into the wall and pounded against the other side.

"Axl!" Now that there was light streaming into the tunnel he could see the opening below him, where Eddie was beginning to right himself. "Axl, we have to get out of here!"

* * *

"Um….working on it…?" Axl twisted his wrist to adjust the hold he had on Zappa's jaw. The boy was stronger than he looked. Axl was already on his back, pushing at Zappa's throat and snapping jaws, trying to keep the enraged teen from his goal of biting into his face. He couldn't get a good enough grip to force him off with how flexible Zappa was. By now the woman's face he had seen—or thought he had seen—was gone, causing him to wonder if he hadn't imagined it entirely.

Zappa's hair began to lift away from his skull, as if charged by some unseen magic, and Axl wasn't about to wait long enough to find out what was coming. He slapped his hands over the boy's face as he quickly amassed his own power. Teeth bit into his palm, breaking skin, but before Axl even felt the flow of blood a stream of fire swarmed from his fingertips. Zappa's scream, cracking and unnatural, echoed painfully in the corridor as he threw himself back and covered his face.

Axl shoved the handles of his _kama_ into his mouth and lunged for the escape tunnel. Zappa was still writhing on the ground, his flailing keeping Eddie at bay long enough for him to pull himself up into the passage. He feared retaliation from the Red Musician but it never came. He could even hear her laughing.

Axl was concentrating so hard on keeping his footing on the narrow metal bars that he barely realized when he reached the exit. A hand closed suddenly around him to help him outside. Startled, he glanced up and found himself staring into Venom's one visible blue eye.

He grinned around his weapons, and tightened his grip on Venom so that the assassin could pull him out of the wall through another freshly broken hole. Together they collapsed on the ground in a heap of gasping breath. Axl chuckled as he spit out his sickles. "You waited for me?"

"Of course." Venom pressed a hand to his side; he looked a little pale, but what Axl could see of his expression was focused with adrenaline. He dragged himself to his feet and pulled Axl with him. "Come on, they're right behind us." He started ahead several steps, adding, "Ax-man."

* * *

By the time Bridget and Brandon reached the origin of the panicked shouting, the city folk were backed away from Paris's outer wall, talking amongst themselves in hurried, anxious tones. They were all shifting, pointing at the hole in the wall with agitation. Bridget quickly left his brother's side to ask a pair of women in thick winter coats that were huddled under a shop awning.

"A man came bursting out of the wall!" one of the women exclaimed. "He had white hair, like that criminal Officer Kiske has been looking for."

"Venom?" Bridget was about to demand an explanation with another cry arose among the gathered spectators. He turned, just in time to see a hand appear through the unintended hole. Whoever it might have been was bracing himself against the ledge, and disappeared a moment later. It was visible only long enough for Bridget to spot a coarse red cuff, like a prison uniform.

"Zappa…" Bridget slipped out of his coat, pushing it against Brandon's chest when he approached. "Brandon—call the police, call Ky. Tell him to come as soon as he can."

Brandon accepted the coat, but when Bridget started to head towards the wall he jumped forward, grabbing his arm. "Bridget, what are you doing? If it's really the assassin—"

"They're getting away!" Bridget protested, wriggling free of his brother's grip. "Someone has to do something!" He turned, sprinting to the wall despite several shouts from the other citizens. "Just tell Ky to get here!"

Bridget knew this was a bad idea. As he neared the wall he caught a glimpse of another flash of red—shiny and leather-like—and almost lost his nerve when he remembered all of Ky's tales. But he was determined, the memories of that morning still fresh in his mind. No matter what Ky might have thought of him he was still a bounty hunter, and he could still help.

Bridget crouched down in front of the hole, and was a little intimidated to hear the small crowd behind him grow silent, as if expecting something to happen. He thought he might have seen a pair of tall boots on the other side of the wall, as Ky had described to him, but they were quickly gone.

Licking his lips, he glanced back over his shoulder, and saw Brandon staring back at him with a pleading expression. Praying his brother would understand Bridget shook his head, and with a deep breath climbed through the wall.

* * *

The area just outside of Paris' main wall was like a little taste of home for Venom. Throughout the long years of the Crusades the city had been the target of several Gear attacks, some of them headed by the great Gear general Justice itself. Fierce defense of the wall by each captain of the Holy Order had kept the creatures from terrorizing Paris's citizens, but that had done nothing for the city's outskirts. Seven years of reconstruction had not yet cleared away all the multi-layered wreckage of broken buildings, nor cleaned the soil of the Gears' poisons. Stories of anguished ghosts, of hidden Gears among the hollowed out shells of old churches, frightened the children at night and kept the construction workers from venturing too far too quickly. The land would not be livable for some time yet.

It was all to Venom's advantage. Though he had not passed this way before, there was something of an instinct that came when living in ruins. The arrangement of broken buildings, though random, had their own kind of order not unlike a maze of capillaries. Everything was connected, had a way through, over or under or around. It was just a matter of finding it.

Venom took a deep breath and tasted a change of pressure in the air, the unmistakable smell of snow coming. That would work to their advantage, too. If not for the pain sliding through his abdomen with every breath, he would have even been optimistic.

"What was it down there?" he asked, leading Axl into one of the buildings. It had once been a bookstore—the shelves had mostly rotted away, and a few moldy leather-bound volumes lay strewn about. "The Musician?"

"Yeah!" Axl had secured his travel bag onto his back once more, though he kept his weapons in one hand as he stayed on Venom's heels. "Sure was. But she had someone with her, some kid in a prison outfit." Axl frowned sharply as he and Venom slipped through a hole in the wall and into what might have been a garden shop at one time. "There was something…really strange about him."

"Strange?" Venom paused at the store window, glancing out at the empty street to make sure Eddie and his "friends" hadn't caught on to them quite yet. "How so?"

"Like…familiar," Axl said, and Venom wasn't sure what to make of the uncharacteristically disturbed tone of his comrade's voice. "In a weird way."

Venom paused to catch his breath, resisting the temptation to grab his healing side. He had hoped he would have recovered more completely by now, but his short fight with Eddie had stretched Faust's stitches, reminding his muscles of their earlier trauma. He tried to cover it by continuing their conversation. "Must be the prisoner she let free. For whatever reason. Why would someone like that challenge Kiske just to come after us?"

"Buggered if I know," Axl said with a shrug. Despite Venom's efforts of concealment he mentioned it anyway; "Your side still hurt?"

"It's not bad," Venom said immediately. "The stitches haven't pulled." He forced himself to stand a little straighter. "We'd better get going before the…."

Venom broke off, his gaze drawn to movement just outside the shop window. It looked like a small dog, though its black fur appeared fuzzy, almost indistinct, and there were no identifiable characteristics to suggest a breed. Venom stared at it, bewildered into silence.

Axl moved to his side to see for himself. "That's…one odd looking dog."

As soon as Axl peered through the window the small dog barked sharply, showing unnaturally long teeth for an animal its size. It flattened itself against the street and Venom caught on only just in time—he snatched Axl by the arm, dragging them both to the floor of the shop just as the window exploded in a shower of glass above them. Venom shook his head to dislodge the shards from his hair, and in the process caught sight of the attacking object. It was a sword, the width of the blade as broad as a man's chest, with a jagged division up the middle and dried blood staining edge and hilt. It seemed to hang suspended in the air over his head, weightless, before rushing abruptly out of view.

"Shit!" Axl scrambled to his feet, and this time Venom couldn't warn him in time. A thin wire snapped around his wrist, jerking him to and over the now empty window sill.

Venom bit back a curse of his own as Axl disappeared from view outside the shop. No one should have been able to track them as easily as they had been. But those concerns were forced aside as Eddie took Axl's place in front of him; Venom struggled upright, opening his case to retrieve his weapon. "Eddie…"

"You should have just died at the restaurant," Eddie hissed, perched on his host's shoulder. Zato-1's corpse climbed somewhat awkwardly into the shop. "And saved everyone the trouble."

Venom twisted his cue together and fell back a step so he could better brace his weight. "It's going to end differently this time."

Zato-1 charged, but the shop was small and he couldn't build up enough momentum. Though in pain Venom's mind at least was much clearer than it had been during their last confrontation, and he easily blocked the tendrils of twisting shadow mass against his cue. Eddie's glowing eyes were gone now, hidden within the swirling false flesh, leaving no obvious target to hurt the beast itself. All Venom could do was focus his attacks on his old master. A jab with the blunt handle of his weapon caught Zato-1 between the eyes, forcing him back.

"We don't have time for this!" Venom shouted, pursuing. "The police will be here soon!" When he swung the cue again Zato-1 caught it against his forearm, and a sudden surge of black matter caught Venom in the chest, throwing him back against the rotting shop counter.

Zato-1 shook his long hair out behind him. "So give up already."

* * *

Axl bounded to his feet as soon as there was ground beneath him again, forgetting that the wire was still tight around his wrist. He was jerked quickly forwards, and nearly ran headfirst into I-no's green guitar. She made up the distance by smashing it into his face before finally releasing his hand.

"Bloody…bastards…." Having been thrown to his back, Axl groaned as he fingered his bleeding nose. "You broke my face!"

The sword that had nearly gutted him and Venom a moment ago reappeared, a blur of rusted metal that would have cleaved his skull if not for a quick roll to the side. He sprung to his feet and passed one of his sickles to his second hand as he faced the pair.

The Red Musician and her companion, the prison boy, were standing side by side opposite him. Axl grimaced a little at the boy's face—the fire had charred long burns across his already slack cheeks, had burned away his eyebrows and parts of his lips. But then, to the British man's surprise, the ghost he had seen in the sewer reappeared over Zappa's left shoulder. In the full morning light he could make out her features even better, though there wasn't much to see other than a head of long, knotted black hair and emaciated arms. Her crooked fingers passed over Zappa's face, peeling the burns away as if they were stage make up, leaving a fresh layer of unblemished skin behind.

Axl gulped, involuntarily stepping back as the great sword floated to Zappa's side as well. "I don't know who you are," he started, trying not to be distracted by the sounds of battle coming from within the shop. "I mean, you're kinda familiar, but what you just did, that's—"

"Axl Low," the ghost warned, her head turning slowly to properly face him. "Don't you walk away from me."

Axl froze, the ball of his foot just barely braced against the ground in preparation of another step. Unobstructed by echoes and flowing water the woman's voice was so familiar to him he felt ill to think he hadn't recognized it earlier. Beneath the rasp of her cracked lips was the mixed accent of a woman from too many countries, one that had said his name so many times in the past.

His mouth went dry when he tried to reply. "Me…" He clenched his fists against his weapons. "Megumi…?"

"Hurry it up, will you?" I-no interrupted boredly. "I'd rather not meet Kiske again on this trip."

Zappa gave a sharp quiver, for a moment the woman's ghost flickering out of sight, until he calmed. "Are you happy to see me?" She drawled as her host stumbled forward. "Now, after all this time?"

"M-Megumi," Axl stuttered, in shock. His hands were trembling. "What're you…" He started to smile—after all this time, she was here—but the reality of their situation, of the condition she was in, set back in swiftly. "No, you're still in the present—the past. That—"

"That's right. It's been…one hundred years." Megumi shifted, moving away from Zappa's shoulder so that her bare feet became visible. Her hand slid down to curl around Zappa's, which he held in turn, almost…tenderly. "One hundred years since you disappeared…."

Axl licked his lips; when she started getting too close he took another thoughtless step back. He recognized her voice, and the half of her face that he could see was familiar, but he was still unwilling to admit this was really his Megumi, the lover he'd left behind. "It—it wasn't my fault. It was this portal—"

"…Left without a word…"

"I tried to get back, but I—"

"…_Abandoned_ me…"

"No!" Whether it was really her or not, Axl couldn't let her—or anyone—think that. "I never would have—"

Zappa jerked his arm, sending the bloodied sword at him again. Axl lifted his weapons and dodged; his arms trembled with the effort of holding off the heavy weapon as their blades squealed against each other. It was disorienting to see the length of metal moving as easily through the air as it was. Axl was just fast enough to evade or deflect the attacks but Zappa was bearing down on him now, Megumi's ghost having faded away again. The boy himself didn't look as if he would strike but his spinning blade was more than enough to put Axl on the defensive.

Axl's mind was whirling. It had been years now but he still remembered the last time he'd seen Megumi; stretched across the lumpy mattress of their shabby downtown flat. She had been dressed in a blue satin nightie bought the day before, her long black hair trailing over the bare skin of her back and obscuring part of her face. His nostrils filled with the scent of stale coffee and perfume. One almond eye had traced his figure to the doorway, and one blown kiss had served as a farewell. The memories of such simple intimacy had sustained him for so many months….

Zappa spun abruptly, his leg lashing out like drawn elastic to catch Axl in the side. The breath rushing out of him quickly drew his attention back to the fight at hand. As he stumbled back a twist of his wrist sent the chain connecting his sickles shooting forward to wrap around Zappa's still extended ankle. Caught off balance Zappa dropped to his hands and feet like a startled cat, but before Axl could take advantage of the momentary lapse the sword was back, planting itself defensively in front of its master.

"If it's really you," Axl huffed, his voice tightening with emotion. "Megumi…Jesus, what happened?" When Zappa lifted his head, his face flashing briefly in the countenance of his former lover, a shudder ran through him that was nearly enough to send his knees buckling. "I don't understand…."

"You never came back," Zappa hissed. His eyes rolled in his head as he spoke in his mixed voice, and with his elbows twisted up he looked like some grotesque spider perched on the street. "That night…the day after…the years after…I waited and you never came back."

Axl's weapons clattered to the ground before he realized his grip had gone slack. By now he was convinced he had wandered into a nightmare. He'd even forgotten that I-no was there watching, and that the sound of shattering wood somewhere nearby had to have been Venom fighting an impossible enemy. He could only stare at the bizarre creature before him in hopes that he could catch a glimpse of something that more closely resembled his old friend and companion.

"You really…" He gulped, and when Zappa began to crawl towards him he didn't back away this time. "…want me dead?"

"Yes," Zappa growled, his body swinging upright once more. His arms lifted over his head as if drawn by a puppeteer's wires to call his sword forward. "Die…and be mine again."

For a single instant as the blade careened toward him, it didn't occur to Axl that he should dodge. With his gaze still locked on Zappa's contorted face he barely even noticed it. He was still staring when a spinning metal disc diverted the sword a few scant inches from his torso, causing a pinwheel that sent the sword's thick handle digging into his chest. Already bruised and half out of his wits Axl was easily thrown onto his back, gasping weakly. He managed to get his composure back in time to see a young figure leap into the street to challenge Zappa.

"Zappa, I don't know if you remember me," a young voice said with determination. "But you've gotta come back with me now."


	16. Chapter 15

Guilty Gear, its characters and settings are property of Sammy Studios, and are being used in this fanfiction without permission. This fic is rated R for violence and sexual content, and it contains yaoi material.

I only hurt them because I love them. Honest >.>

**Thunder Falling**

Chapter 15

Bridget was shivering and trying to hide it as he faced down the two wanted criminals, a yo-yo in each hand. It was beginning to snow, and despite the addition of long sleeves and leggings to his usual bounty hunting outfit, the chill crept into his skin and made his teeth clench until they chattered. Zappa and I-no were watching him with sharp expressions which didn't help his already unsteady confidence. He couldn't see Venom or Eddie, and Axl didn't look like he would be fighting anyway, but those were only small favors compared to what he had gotten himself into.

Zappa's head tilted, his eyes whirling like marbles as they took in the sight of him. "From the prison," he murmured wetly.

"That's right!" Bridget forced his chin up as he held his ground. "Zappa, you don't have to do this! Ky only wants to help you. If you stay out here more people will get hurt."

Zappa's shoulders spasmed, making his hands swing like rats held by their tails. I-no stepped forward before he could make a reply. "Get lost, brat," she sneered. "We don't have time—­"

"You're all under arrest!" Bridget interrupted. He could see that none of them considered him a threat, but if he could just stall a few minutes more, Ky would be able to make it. He would bring Testament, and his officers, and they would handle this. All he had to do was keep them long enough.

Bridget shifted his weight, trying to keep an eye on Axl behind him, in case he attempted an attack as well. "I'm Bridget, the famous bounty hunter! And I'm going to take you all in for attacking the Global Police!" He forced a grin, even if it felt horribly fake even to him. "You're all worth a lot of money."

I-no scowled, looking ready to turn away and leave him be, but Zappa was hesitating. His fingers were bending at odd angles that made the joints crack. She seemed to grow more serious upon seeing this and pushed Zappa a step back. "You're not taking _any_ of us _any_where," I-no retorted, cocking a hand on her hip. "I need this boy."

Bridget licked his lips and glared back as defiantly as he could manage. "He's not a bad person, and I'm not going to let you use him. When Ky gets here—"

I-no stepped abruptly forward, her long legs easily closing the short distance between them. The back of her hand flashed out faster than he could follow to strike him hard across the face. It was only a short blow, dismissive, but it knocked Bridget's teeth together and for a moment turned his sight white. He gasped as he stumbled back a step.

"Go home," I-no snapped, turning sharply on her heel away from him. "You're not worth killing."

Bridget shuddered, the anger and shame of those words lifting the taste of bile to his throat. He had come here with all his determination and ready to risk life, only to be treated with disdain from a thief. In the back of his mind Ky's voice was telling him to step down and wait for someone stronger to take his place, but the rest of him wasn't listening. "I said, you're under arrest!"

Bridget flicked his wrists, sending both his yo-yos flying towards the turned I-no. The sound alone was enough to alert her. She turned quickly and snatched up the yo-yo from Bridget's left hand easily in her own. The second projectile flew harmlessly past her ear. "I said I don't have time for your games!" she snarled in irritation.

Before she'd even stopped speaking Bridget leapt forward, landing on one foot in front of the apathetic woman. A shift of his weight lifted his right foot high to display remarkable flexibility as he jammed his heel into the unguarded underside of I-no's chin.

"You—" I-no choked, and tried to reach for him, but with one hand already clenched around Bridget's yo-yo and the other suddenly a captive of Bridget's tight grip, she couldn't counter soon enough to evade the second metal disc. Bridget jerked his wrist again; the yo-yo that had at first appeared to have missed its target came racing back, slamming hard into the back of I-no's skull and forcing her throat against Bridget's yet poised sole.

Bridget knew better than to laud the brief victory. With a childish growl he snatched the front of I-no's red leather top, throwing his weight. As he rolled onto his back he kicked out with both feet, using the momentum to send I-no flying head over heels in an almost judo-style throw.

I-no didn't fly very far. She caught the brunt of the landing with her shoulder and skidded until dropping to her back, no more than five meters from where Bridget was popping back to his feet. But the shock was clear on her face as she rolled to her side, gagging and grasping her throat. Zappa and Axl both stared in blatant amazement.

"Fucking hell," Axl breathed dumbly.

Bridget quickly righted himself, both yo-yos snapping to his palms. His heart thundered as he stared at the effects of his attack with his own dumbfounded awe. "I…." Reminding himself to breathe he shook himself and let out a wordless holler of accomplishment. "Yeah—see that? I said you're under arrest!"

"You…" I-no pushed slowly to her feet, still wheezing. There was no sarcastic disinterest left in her face. "You little bitch. You're gonna pay for that."

Bridget tensed and braced himself, but when I-no drew her guitar her eyes were murderous, and she all but flew the mere meters between them. The curved weapon caught Bridget full in the stomach. He gasped—or tried to—as the force sent him skidding backwards. Everything was suddenly happening too fast. Despite the distance he felt he'd been thrown I-no was still with him an instant later, and what might have been the heel of her boot jabbed into his back. A quiver of pain ran up and down his spine, until the next blow, maybe the guitar again, caught his shoulder and sent him spinning.

Bridget's eyes watered, and for a moment as the world flared white he thought he saw Ky, smiling at him.

In the end it was the throw that felled him. I-no's long fingers grabbed him by the back of the head, catching a fistful of his long blue veil along with the hair beneath. If Bridget had thought himself comparable to the woman a moment ago that feeling was lost in how easily she spun his weight, as if he were a small doll. The street blurred into streaks of deadened gray just before Bridget was released, his hat coming free along with a few strands of blonde.

I-no snorted in satisfaction as the boy was sent tumbling through the rotted door of an old building with a spectacular crash. She didn't suspect it would be enough to kill the kid but without a doubt he would be out of the way. Rolling her eyes in annoyance she turned, only to find herself staring unexpectedly into Zappa's angry blue eyes.

"Stop hurting him!" Zappa shouted, for the first time in hours his voice only his own. A pair of pale, faceless ghosts that I-no hadn't seen with him before shot forward from around his shoulders and snatched her by the arms. She didn't have time to protest or fight back—the spirits howled as they lifted her off her feet and smashed her back against the nearest wall. With a dull whimper I-no slumped to the ground, battling unconsciousness.

Axl gaped. By now he was sitting up, his sickles reclaimed and held in a white-knuckled grip. He was still processing everything he'd witnessed when Zappa turned to face him. He tensed, not sure whether to expect another attack, let alone what he would do if it came. But the boy's face was full of lifelike color, and his eyes were no longer rolled over white, but a simple, pained blue.

"I…I'm sorry," Zappa murmured, swallowing hard. "I didn't mean to…."

Axl blinked stupidly. His lips moved in want a response but before the words could come an all too familiar chill pickled the back of his neck. It started like a subtle wind, or maybe the sting of static, but it drew a cold sensation into Axl's stomach that forced him quickly to his feet.

"No…not now." Axl grimaced, but already he could feel the atmosphere distorting behind him. The breeze that had only a second ago been harmless was starting to tug at his clothing and hair. He shook his head stubbornly but he couldn't draw his feet forward against the sudden force. "No—wait! Wait, I finally found her—"

Zappa's eyes widened, doubtlessly staring at the darkened circle spreading out from behind Axl. He shifted uneasily and abruptly called out, "Do you really know her?"

Axl twisted, trying to draw away from the portal even knowing it was useless. "Please, don't do this," he pleaded in a panic. There was no telling where he would end up or what time, if he would ever have this chance…. "Megumi!"

Zappa licked his lips. "We're going to the Colony!" he shouted over the growing wind. "We're going to Japan! If you can—"

Axl's heart gave a jump, and he strained to hear the rest, but a roar like thunder was in his ears and drowned out the rest. But he clung to those few words he'd heard as his one lead toward seeing Megumi again.

Whatever judgment she had in store for him, he would accept it.

* * *

Venom twisted, pulling his midsection out of the way of another shadowed strike. With all the movement he was beginning to finally remember the short gash along his leg, though the sting of stretched skin didn't hinder him enough to be a concern. In the small shop Eddie couldn't use the full extent of his powers, and it gave Venom's swift pool cue the advantage. 

They twisted in their limited confines, throwing each other up against the walls, lashing out at any and every opening they could. Venom gained an edge when one of his kicks tossed Zato-1 into the north wall where gardening tools had once been displayed; the rusted prongs of an old rake jabbed into Zato-1's back and caused him to hesitate just long enough. With a cry Venom charged forward and stabbed his cue deep into the soft muscle below Zato-1's rib cage.

Zato-1 gaped. Though there was no telling how much pain he actually felt from the attack he twisted, his shadow swirling behind him as if trying to draw breath. Venom cringed but he did not let his old master's visage keep him from continuing his onslaught. Bracing his weight, he adjusted his grip and pulled, heaving Zato-1's corpse through the open store window.

Eddie gave a surprised howl as he and his host were sent tumbling out into the street. Venom allowed himself only a brief sigh of accomplishment before pursuing. But by the time he was leaping out of the shop Zato-1 was already clawing to his feet, turning away from his enemy in full retreat.

"Eddie!" Venom tightened his grip and started after him, but his injured thigh gave an unexpected throb, slowing him. Further down the street he could see the prison escapee helping his female companion upright. There was no immediate sign of Axl. "Wait—"

"Weren't you going to finish him off?" I-no muttered as Zato-1 rejoined her side. She drew her guitar and played a sharp chord.

"Forget it," Eddie snarled, covering Zato-1's body. "Just get us out of here already."

I-no rolled her eyes. "Such much for both your petty grudges." She adjusted her hat and began to play.

"Wait!" Venom shouted, but the trio was already beginning to fade within the reverberations of her music, becoming indistinct outlines. "Damn you, Eddie! We're not finished yet!"

Eddie glared at him, his gleaming red eyes a single clear point among the gradually blurring figures. Venom wasn't able to reach him in time; as the sound from I-no's guitar faded away so did the trio, leaving nothing behind.

Venom's shoulders sagged. Despite having at least forced Eddie's retreat—a testimony to his strength—he felt little pride for it. Another battle of theirs had ended, and he had yet to reclaim his master from the creature. "Lord Zato…"

The sound of distant—but approaching—voices woke him from his disappointment, drawing him back to the situation at hand. "Axl…?" He turned in a circle, scanning the lines of buildings for some sign of his companion. "Axl! Where are you?" But he received no word and the men were coming fast. Out of options he dove through the broken entrance of a nearby building.

The building was small, mostly rotted, but the windows were set high, and would protect him from being seen from the street. He would not be able to stay hidden long. Already he recognized one of the approaching voices, and it made his skin crawl with momentary panic: it was the police, and Ky Kiske was with them.

Venom cursed to himself, praying that wherever Axl had disappeared to he would be hidden well enough. He began to slip further into the shop, ignoring the splinters of wood from the broken door, when his foot suddenly struck something soft—something that whimpered. He turned his gaze down in surprise.

Curled on his side near the wall was a soft-featured child, dressed in white and blue and weighed down by a thick ring of black iron. It took Venom a moment to realize that it was a boy, and by then the stranger was trying to edge away from him. But he was dazed and there was blood in his hair, and when he realized that he couldn't escape the assassin his lips parted, taking in a deep breath—

Venom pounced on the teen, closing his hand quickly around his thin neck to keep him from calling out; even a weak yell would be more than enough to draw Kiske's attention. The boy stiffened beneath his tight grip. With eyes wide and fearful he pawed at Venom's fingers.

Venom tightened his hold, cutting off the child's breath as he tried to keep an open ear out for Kiske's approach. If he killed the boy here the officers wouldn't find the body unless they began a shop to shop search, and by then Venom would be long gone, with no one to indicate which direction he'd gone. He could do it quickly, without a sound. He had done it before.

But when Venom looked back to the boy, whose eyes were beginning to water as his struggles lessened, he was suddenly reminded of Faust's parting words to him. His hand trembled, and abruptly he let go.

The boy shuddered, holding his bruised throat as he tried to draw breath back into his deprived lungs. Venom had to cover his nose and mouth to keep his coughing from alerting the officers. The hindrance only made the boy's panic worse, though, and when he began to squirm Venom had no choice. He jerked the boy upright, metal ring and all, and began to half carry him to the back of the store. "Make a sound and I'll kill you," he hissed a frustrated warning.

The boy bit back a whimper and stumbled after him as best he could.

* * *

By now Ky's officers were used to the sight of him charging to the head of their procession, barking orders and pushing them forward, and they knew to stay out of his way. He had arrived late to another criminal scene. He had been so busy in the southern part of the city, hunting through the usual hiding spots and keeping close attention on the gate there, that he had left defense of the outer wall to its usual magic. He hadn't imagined that Venom would be bold enough to tunnel through the stone itself. 

"Spread out," Ky ordered, and his men hastened to comply. "Search the buildings—they couldn't have gotten that far. Report any evidence or sign of movement!"

As the men divided into groups for the search Ky stood at the middle of the street, staring up and down the deserted, broken buildings. It was quiet—too quiet, if this place was supposed to have been a battlefield. If the witnesses could be trusted, among them Bridget's brother, Brandon, then Venom, Zappa, and possibly even Eddie had come this way. Whether as allies or enemies he could no longer presume to guess. All he knew for certain was that if his quarry had escaped the city, no number of officers nor strictness of his investigation would bring them back. He had lost them.

"Sir!" One of the officers came jogging up to him, carrying a long strip of familiar blue fabric. "Sir Kiske, we found this, just over there!" He pointed down the street to an old shop of some kind. "It looks like—"

Ky snatched the material away from the man before he could finish, stretching it out to get a better look. As he'd feared the article was very familiar; the habit-like adornment from Bridget's bounty hunting outfit. It appeared fully intact but when Ky turned it about he found a few hairs stuck to the inside, as if having been ripped out by the root.

Ky's hands clenched around the hat until they shook. "Bridget…."

* * *

Venom moved quickly, pushing the limits of his stamina as he hauled his unwanted company through Old Paris's ruins. Finally, he was at an advantage. Kiske was nothing if not thorough, and while he wasted his time hunting from building to building he was making his escape. He regretted having to leave his case behind but even that would work in his favor, should they find it, as he was now heading in the opposite direction. He was going to get away. 

When he had a significant lead on his pursuers Venom drew the boy to a halt, taking them into the remains of an old church. Parts of the ceiling had caved in, and as they moved down the line of pews snowflakes drifted in on a slight breeze. They had a strangely calming effect that Venom only partially appreciated, because as his body relaxed it remembered how exhausted he should have been.

Venom stopped behind the rotten pulpit, shoving the young blonde into a corner. The boy managed not to cry out as he slumped against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him. He was breathing hard and still coughing faintly. By now know his neck was dark with bruises.

Venom turned his gaze away as he sank to the floor as well, finally allowing himself to cover his aching side. He, too, was gasping faintly as the fight and their haste through the deadened city finally began to catch up with him. He loosened his tie with a quiet sigh. "Axl…." He stretched his leg experimentally and found it had long since stopped bleeding. "Where the hell did he go…?"

The boy shifted. "He's gone," he said hoarsely. "The blonde man—the one with the sickles. He's gone."

Venom glanced up sharply, but there was nothing like deception in the boy's face. His eyes narrowed. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm…Bridget," the boy introduced, licking his lips. It looked like he was having trouble speaking without pain, calling Venom's attention to more bruises on the side of his face. Everyone had taken a beating that day. "A bounty hunter."

Venom snorted. "A bounty hunter. I suppose you thought you could stall us until the police got there. Get yourself my reward…."

Bridget glanced away, finally reaching up to wipe his eyes that had started to water when Venom first attacked him in the shop. "It worked…for a while."

"You said he was gone," Venom said abruptly, trying to get the answers he needed out of him. "Axl—what happened to him?" He shuddered briefly at the thought that he might have also been tossed into one of the buildings, only to be found by Kiske and his men….

"I didn't see it really well," Bridget admitted, reaching up hesitantly to push his bangs back. There was a long scrape across his forehead, most likely from however he had ended up in the store. When he winced Venom couldn't help but feel guilty for having dragged him about so harshly. He was only a kid. "But he was fighting with Zappa and that lady, and then…he stopped yelling. It seemed like magic…."

Venom didn't like the sound of that. If Axl had not been involved in the bizarre guitar-induced teleportation there were few explanations for what could have happened to him. He sagged in frustration. "Damnit. Could he have…timeslipped? He said it was so random…." His hands tightened, and when the one around his side dug carelessly into his injured side he grimaced, and coughed weakly.

When he regained his composure, he found Bridget watching him closely. "You're still hurt, aren't you?" the boy asked quietly.

"Shut up," Venom hissed back through his teeth. He dipped his head so that his hair covered his face more effectively. "It's nothing."

"Was it really…the Gear, Testament?" Bridget persisted. "Who healed you?"

Venom paused at that unexpected question. "Testament," he murmured. "Was that his name?" He glared at Bridget through pale white locks. "But how would you know that?"

Bridget gulped, pressing back against the wall as if trying to shy away. But there was nowhere to go, and after a moment he replied, "I know him."

"Oh?" Venom grunted doubtfully. "And I suppose you're going to say he's tracking us now? That he's your friend, and I'd better watch out, because he's going to rescue you?"

Bridget was quiet for a moment, bringing a sigh from the weary assassin. He didn't believe the boy, but that didn't change the fact that Kiske was still after them, possibly Eddie and his accomplices as well, and now Axl was gone. Probably tossed through space and time, to be met again in another twenty years, if not another hundred….

He almost forgot that Bridget was there until the boy spoke up again. "Take me with you."

Venom sighed again as he lifted his head. He was too exhausted to be dealing with things like this now. "What?"

"I know where they're going," Bridget said, looking more alert than a moment ago. "Zappa said it, just before they left—I heard him. If Axl heard it, he'll be headed there, too."

"And why would he? They were trying to kill us."

"Because he knows Zappa." Bridget sat up away from the wall; the seriousness in his face was somehow only amplified by his youthful appearance. "I don't know why, but Axl was surprised to see him. He'll go after him."

Venom continued to stare at him, still without trust, though he couldn't deny the swell of hope he felt with those words. If any of what Bridget was saying was true it meant he had a chance to find Axl again. It was foolish of him to think that Axl might have needed his help; chances were he was slipping again through time, off to a new time to meet new, interesting people.

But Zappa had tried to kill them. The Musician was with him, and most likely Eddie as well. Something had been set into motion, and if Axl was heading into the middle of it, Venom wasn't sure he could just move on.

"He would do the same for me," Venom uttered, and this time the thought did not surprise him. He had spent so much time pondering the reason for their strange friendship, it made little sense to deny its very existence now. "He…might need help. We met for a reason."

Venom straightened, meeting Bridget's gaze. "Tell me where they went."

"No."

"What?" Venom leaned forward, causing Bridget to lean back. "You just said you know where they went."

"I do," Bridget assured. "But you have to take me with you."

Venom's expression tightened; his compassion, he told himself, could only be stretched so far. He pulled himself closer to Bridget, and though the boy shifted uneasily he didn't try to struggle when Venom's hand went again to his throat. "Tell me where they went, or I'll kill you."

Bridget shivered, but his eyes didn't falter in their determination. "If I tell you, you won't need me. You'll kill me anyway."

Venom grimaced; he had no intention of doing so, but he didn't suspect Bridget would believe that. With a scowl he pulled his hand back. "You want to come with me so that you can pass word to the police when my guard is down," he accused. "To keep an eye on me while you set a trap."

Bridget didn't respond. His tenacity was admirable, however aggravating. At long last Venom sighed, and pushed to his feet. "All right," he gave in. "I'll take you with me. But you have to promise me something, on your life."

Bridget gulped, and with the help of the wall behind him managed to stand as well. "What is it?"

"Don't bring Kiske down on me until we've found Axl," Venom said firmly. His hands fisted at his sides. "After that, you can turn me in if you want. I won't fight. But I have to know he's all right."

The boy hesitated in his answer yet again, but at length he nodded, and offered his hand. "All right," he agreed. "Not until after we find Axl."

Venom frowned down at his hand, but he shook it, and despite his better judgment believed in that simple pledge between them. "Thank you."

* * *

Testament had intended to sleep through the day, and been doing fairly well until the front door opened with a loud slam. Though startled from a deep sleep, he wasn't entirely surprised. Commotion was only to be expected when you were with Ky Kiske. 

The sound of heavy footsteps up the stairs urged Testament fully awake, and by the time the bedroom door swung open he was sitting up, combing his hair back with his fingers. "Ky."

He had expected Ky to be breathless and anxious about something, but the wild look in his eyes, near panic, was something different. Testament frowned. "What's wrong?"

"He's gone," Ky uttered. A subtle swish of movement drew Testament's attention down to the blue fabric clutched in Ky's trembling hand. "He took him."

"What?" Testament climbed out of bed. By then Ky was heading towards him, looking more rattled than Testament had seen him in a long time. "Who are you—"

"It was him!" Ky cried, thrusting the material against Testament's bare chest. It wasn't until he felt the jab of the metal forehead plate that he realized what it was. "It was _him_, and now Bridget's gone. Damnit, he's gone!"

Ky moved away, giving Testament a moment to turn the article over in his hands as the words sank in. There was no blood but it felt heavy. "What happened?" he asked, suddenly very quiet.

"Venom's escaped the city. He was spotted just north of the western gate…where Bridget was having lunch with his brother." Ky was moving about the room anxiously, but Testament couldn't take his eyes off Bridget's familiar habit. "He ran off after him and now…now he's gone."

Testament licked his lips, but his mind was whirling now, making it difficult to think. "You think…he's killed him."

"That's what he does!" Ky exploded, his pacing becoming more agitated. "He's a goddamned murderer! Eddie might even be with him, which means Zappa, and that woman—and now they're all out of the city! We'll never be able to find them in the ruins."

Testament lifted his gaze. Usually he was able to stay calm in the face of his lover's anger, but something cold and sickening was forming in his stomach. "You mean, it's my fault. If I hadn't helped Venom—"

Ky turned toward him sharply, his uniform rustling with the sudden movement. But he struggled over his response when their gazes met. His eyes were pained with accusation and guilt. After several long seconds he lowered his head. "No. It's my fault. Bridget wouldn't have done something so foolish if not for—"

"Ky." Testament let the piece of clothing fall as he stepped forward to take Ky by his shoulders. "That's not true. We'll go after him. We'll find Bridget."

Ky shook his head, looking honestly—and disturbingly—at a loss. "Outside the city there's no way we can track them," he murmured, anger giving way to frustration. "The Assassin's Guild is gone, there's nothing left to hunt. I don't even know why he was in Paris to begin with, let alone where he's going…."

"Take me back to where they were," Testament said abruptly. His hands tightened against Ky's shoulders. "We'll keep looking."

"But it's still midday and my officers—"

"I don't care! Bridget was my responsibility, too," Testament reminded him. He let go suddenly to hunt up his clothing. "And we'll find him, whatever it takes."

Ky fell silent, and Testament tried to ignore him while he quickly dressed himself. He knew if he stopped for too long to think about what was happening the same panic Ky seemed to be going through would catch up to him. All those weeks he had traveled with Bridget, helping him train and encouraging his chosen profession…he had never imagined it would come to this.

"Let's go," Testament said once he'd finished, already heading for the door. "It's not too late, Ky. We can still find them."

Ky nodded, and without a word followed him out of the room.


End file.
